The Masculinity Chronicles
by Dollymop
Summary: Sweenett. Mr. Todd is feeling insecure about his masculinity. Toby is playing cupid. Mrs. Lovett just wants to be loved!
1. Mr Todd's Masculinity

A/N: Sweeney Todd thinks he's so macho. But we all know he's a big girl's blouse under that sulky pout and eyeliner ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd.

**Edit: **Old story. It's probably crap. But if you have a strong stomach, read on.

The Masculinity Chronicles

"Mrs. Lovett… do you think I'm manly?"

It was a question Nellie Lovett hadn't been expecting as she collected Mr. Todd's bloodied shirts from his barbershop for washing. It certainly wasn't one that she had prepared herself to answer _ever_ from Sweeney Todd.

She hesitated, her eyes combing the barber from his long, matted hair to his slim figure almost swamped in the tightly belted trousers.

"Yeah… sure… anything you say, love," She said with a weak smile, attempting to take her leave.

He grabbed onto her wrist and she closed her eyes in pained exasperation. Now she'd have to turn and face his 'kicked puppy' eyes and gently explain why his singing, dancing, prancing ways didn't make him the typical posterboy for masculinity. She took a deep breath and turned to him with a forced smile.

"Stop lying! Tell me the truth." He whined at her, keeping his hand firmly around her wrist. "You don't think I'm manly at all, do you? Do you!"

"You _are _manly, love," She said heartily, attempting to tug herself anyway from him. She was clutching onto the shirts very tightly to stop them from tumbling down the stairs and it made it very difficult to break the barber's spindly grip.

"You're lying," He said accusingly, watching her very closely.

Mrs. Lovett was very conscious of the bloodstained razor in Mr. Todd's left hand and wasn't keen to suffer the irony of being put into one of her own pies so she strained a laugh. "Really, Mr. Todd. You're being ridiculous. Of course you're manly. I'm sure everyone thinks you the very picture of manliness in the hair design business." She tried to twist out of his grip but he didn't yield.

"You _are _lying!" He burst out. "_Why_ aren't I manly? Is it the leather coat? Should I comb my hair differently? Is it the eyeliner because _I_ was told it's all the rage in the Caribbean for men to wear eyeliner!"

Mrs. Lovett hesitated. She wondered whether it was better to tell him the truth, as likely as it was to result in her becoming a pie or to lie and humour him.

"_Why_?" He pressed her reproachfully.

"Well…" She hesitated, finding the right words. "You're a bit of a… well ponce…" She finished flatly.

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds and the next thing she knew she was against the wall with a cutthroat razor pressed against her neck. She sighed. Always resorting to violence…

"_Now _who's the ponce?" He snarled, the razor pressed dangerously close to her jugular.

"Certainly not the man pushing a woman half his size against the wall with a razor…" Mrs. Lovett replied flatly.

His look of triumph faded. "Oh," He said gruffly. "Sorry," He let her go and she straightened her collar stiffly.

"That's quite alright," She sniffed, pushing past him and going for the stairs. "… You _ponce_," She had to break into a run to escape the enraged barber who had begun to chase her down the stairs.

Mr. Todd sulked for a week after his and Mrs. Lovett's little episode and refused to speak to Mrs. Lovett for almost half that week. He began replying with single words on Wednesday, by Friday she could almost draw full sentences from him and on Sunday he actually replied to her when she asked whether he wanted soup or lard for dinner (almost shouting her down the stairs with his bellowing reply of: "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, _SOUP_!"). But Mrs. Lovett knew he was still stewing on his own insecurities. He was already bitter, murderous, angry, unsettled, gloomy… But now he was also _insecure_. Where did it end? She supposed she'd get used to it. She wouldn't even mind getting used to it if he agreed to marry her but in their present sinful situation his grumpy seclusion was beginning to grate on her nerves. What did she have to do to make him happy, just for a day or two? _What_?

"How about an arm wrestle?"

Mrs. Lovett looked up from her baking table where she'd been rolling the dough for the following day's pies. "What?" She asked blankly, wondering if she'd misheard him.

He stood in her doorway, looking strangely resolute. "You heard me," He insisted. "I want an arm wrestle,"

She rolled her eyes. "Is this because of your blooming _masculinity_ hang ups?"

"No," He said stubbornly and then on seeing her raised eyebrows added: "Perhaps…"

She watched him beadily for a few moments and then finally slapped down her rolling pin and wiped her flour-covered hands on her front. "_Fine_," She rolled her eyes again.

"Excellent," Smirked Mr. Todd. He obviously thought he had the upper hand, so to speak. After all, he _had_ spent fifteen years doing hard, unyielding labour.

He took a seat squarely at her kitchen table and Mrs. Lovett threw one leg over the bench, straddling it and leaning one elbow firmly on the table.

"Ready?" He asked her smugly.

She nodded silently at him, taking his hand securely with hers. His hand was covered in dry calluses but the contact of skin on skin made her heart rise a few inches in her chest.

"On the count of three," He went on. "One… two… _three_-

Mrs. Lovett applied as much pressure as she did when she was rolling a piece of particularly tough dough and Mr. Todd's arm bent almost effortlessly to the table top. He stared blankly at his bent arm for a few moments seeming unable to comprehend what had just happened.

"How… what…how..." He spluttered at her. She shrugged a shoulder at him with a smirk.

"Baker's hands…" She said, batting her eyelashes at the fuming barber.

He glowered at her for a few moments and then with an angry scoff he swept up and flounced out of the kitchen. Mrs. Lovett watched him go with another roll of her eyes. Such an inconvenient time for him to go through his mid life crisis…

"I can drink more than you,"

Mrs. Lovett peered at Mr. Todd over the top of her newspaper. He was standing before her with his arms folded and his chin up. Like a schoolboy challenging his friends to game of leapfrog…

"That's nice, dear," She said mildly, going back to her newspaper.

He stared at her for a few moments and then cleared his throat. "Did you hear me? I said I could drink more than you,"

Mrs. Lovett made a skeptical noise in her throat but didn't look up from her newspaper.

"I could drink you into the ground," He said provocatively, trying to goad her into action. "I could drink more than you could drink in a year in _one _sitting,"

Mrs. Lovett looked up and yawned deliberately and slowly in the barber's face. He glared at her.

"Well, aren't you going to challenge me?" He asked her impatiently.

She tilted her head, seeming to consider him. He was tall and broad shouldered but he was a gangly, half starved thing. Bony and meatless. The alcohol would go straight through him.

"Alright, Mr. Todd," She said finally. "I'll verse you in a drinking match and if I win…" She paused, considering what she could ask of him. Of course she could never ask what she really wanted of him. "… You… have to wash all my laundry for a week,"

He pondered this. "Alright… and if _I_ win… I want…" He also paused. "… I want…" He shrugged. "I'll decide that later,"

She smirked. "Alright. Let's do this thing,"

Minutes later, she and him were seated opposite each other in Mrs. Lovett's kitchen at her table. Nellie's three remaining bottles of gin were sitting between them and two well-cleaned tumblers. Mr. Todd was looking confident, he was obviously laying a lot in his assumption that men could simply drink more than women in all circumstances.

"We drink until the first person passes out or throws up," Mrs. Lovett said pouring the booze into their glasses and sliding the tumbler to Mr. Todd with a wink. "Bottoms up, love,'

He smirked at her and took a straight, long gulp of the gin. A quick swig and it was gone. Mrs. Lovett watched him silently as he went for his second shot, etching a thin, spindly 'I' in the parchment he had produced for scoring purposes.

Mrs. Lovett poured her first drink slowly and steadily and drank it just as so. She knew there were two types of drinkers: those who guzzled their alcohol faster than they should and those who knew their boundaries and heeded them. Otherwise known as 'men' and 'women'…

"Scared, Mrs. Lovett?" He sneered, lifting the second tumbler of gin to his lips.

"You wish," She replied with a smirk and drank the rest of his gin.

"Up you go, dear," Mrs. Lovett had managed to struggle the hulking, staggering figure of the thoroughly drunk Mr. Todd across the kitchen. "Let's get you to bed…"

"I'm… fine…" He slurred. "I co' take…sommore.. just gimme it,"

Mrs. Lovett struggled with him past the baking table. "Of course you could, love"

He had downed almost two full bottles without so much as a break while Mrs. Lovett had stuck to a modest four. When he couldn't keep himself up straight where he sat she knew it was time to step in and save him from himself.

"Mind your head," She said a moment too late as they went through the low door parting her rooms from the shop. He hit it with a dull _'thunk'_ and grumbled darkly under his breath.

"I _am_… manly… Missus…_ovett_'… _am_… li'… a tiger…" He rambled as she tried to get him on the settee and cover him with a blanket. "Li'… a _beast..._"

"Yes, Mr. Todd." She said patiently. "You're a beast,"

"I… am," He mumbled, letting her drop him onto the worn settee and cover him with a threadbare blanket. "Li… a beast..."

Mrs. Lovett went to her cabinet and drew out a small vile of pills. These would help him sleep…

"Take this, dear," She said cheerfully, holding the pill to his mouth.

"Wossat?" He tried to focus on the pill but his head swaggered violently from side to side.

"Just a little magic pill," She said soothingly. "Open up,"

"Jussapill…" He mumbled, clumsily opening his mouth.

Mrs. Lovett jammed the pill into his mouth and with a splutter he managed to swallow it.

"Thatta boy," She said with a small smile as he laid his head back.

"No'… a boy… I'ma'… beast…" He said sleepily, his eyes flickering closed.

Mrs. Lovett gave him a last look and went away to her favourite fireside chair, picking up the newspaper she had discarded barely hours before.

_End of Chapter One_


	2. Mrs Lovett's Laundry

**Author's Notes: **Sweeney Todd, returning to a childlike state to recover from his loss of Lucy...? Yes... we'll go with that... *shifty eyes*

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the storyline.**

Mrs. Lovett's Laundry

The flavour in Mr. Todd's mouth when he awoke tasted something similar to vomit and… half digested rust. His head was throbbing relentlessly as he gave a throaty grown into the worn material of Mrs. Lovett's settee. Half crawling out from under the blanket, he pushed back the hair stuck to his damp forehead and wiped the saliva which had pooled between his cheek and the settee cover. Ew…

He peered around the dimly lit room and spotted Mrs. Lovett curled in her favourite chair, a newspaper lying limply on the arm. She was still in her day clothes, her hair pouring over her face. He wondered why she had opted to sleep _there_ when she had a perfectly good double bed just down the hall in her own room.

With a straining moan he managed to claw his way to his feet. His clothes were rumpled and twisted around his body, his shirt almost completely undone. He had been so stupid. _Why _had he thought he could best Mrs. Lovett in a drinking game? She had lived alone for… God knew how long with nothing but her pies and liqueur cabinet to keep her company; of _course _she'd drink like a bloody fish. He scowled at her sleeping figure.

He wanted to beat her at her own game… He wanted to _prove _to her that he was as masculine as the next barber… but how could he do it? His eyes fell on a portrait of Mrs. Lovett and her late husband above the mantelpiece. She might not have been an actual _man _per say but… well she surely drank like one and she had the strength of a fifty-year-old fisherman… He cocked his head. Was that even a metaphor…? Oh well. It didn't matter. What mattered was him feeling secure about his masculinity… In the great scheme of things that seemed a little weak even in his head…

"Good morning,"

Mr. Todd let out a scream that would have impressed a girl half his age and size. Mrs. Lovett burst out laughing; while he'd been brooding she had woken up and settled her chin on top of her hands, peering at him over the top of the chair arm.

"Don't _do _that," Snapped Mr. Todd, extremely put out by her shrill laughter.

Mrs. Lovett smiled sweetly at him and slid off the chair, straightening her dress and hair. "Sleep well?"

"No," He said sullenly.

Mrs. Lovett cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you this week, Mr. T?" She asked him. "All this stuff about masculinity n' all… it's unlike _you_ to care what people think,"

"I _don't_," He said sourly. "And besides… it's… it's…"

He blushed furiously red and scowled. Mrs. Lovett tilted her head at the flushing barber. "What? What is it?" She pressed him.

"None of your business," He bleated, turning and stomping into the kitchen. Mrs. Lovett followed him.

"And now you have to do all my laundry for a week," She reminded him, eyeing him as he stood with his back to her at the table. "All because you drank too fast-

"It's not my fault you drink like an old woman," He grumbled over his shoulder.

"It's not my fault you have no self control," She retorted. "Besides masculinity… or lack there of... hasn't stopped you from slittin' the throats of dozens of poor gents up in your shop,"

He turned on her furiously "_That _has nothing to do with it," He spat.

She watched him closely. "What is it then? Common Mr. T… you can tell me,"

He looked at her. Pale faced, pie making wench… she wouldn't understand…

"Well…" He hesitated. "Well… I was tending some moronic imbecile the other day and… he happened to say that… well… something along the lines of "he admired a man who was willing to do a profession considered soft by most"…" His made a furious noise between his teeth and turned his back to her again.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "And what did you do?"

"Slashed his throat open and threw him down the chute," Mr. Todd replied impatiently. "The point _is _… _why _are barbers not seen as… manly?"

"Ta be honest, love… I've never really thought about it," Mrs. Lovett said hesitantly.

"Oh forget it," Mr. Todd scoffed, going for the door. "You wouldn't understand… you're a woman,"

Mrs. Lovett titled her head again at the retreating barber's back. "I'm more of a man than you," She said quietly and deliberately.

He froze, one hand on the shop doorknob. "What?" He shot at her over his shoulder.

"You heard me," She said lightly.

He turned sharply. "You think _you're _more masculine than _me_?" He said dubiously, eyeing the baker.

"Easily," She said mildly, pretending to lose interest in the conversation but in reality watching him closely from the corner of her eye.

He was still frozen in front of the door, seeming to be considering her. Small, spindly, slender… Mrs. Lovett didn't seem to be any candidate in stakes of masculinity but she _could _drink like a- WHAT WAS HE SAYING?! HE HAD TO BEAT HER AT HER OWN GAME! FOR THE SAKE OF HIS OWN BRUISED MASCULINITY!!!

"You're on, Mrs. Lovett," He growled, striding towards her and sticking out his hand.

She grinned. "Excellent," She took his hand and they shook on it.

--

"Put yer' back into it," Mrs. Lovett clucked as she oversaw Mr. Todd's woeful attempt at washing. "Ave' you never washed your own shirts before?"

He glowered at her and said nothing, clumsily dragging one of the sodden shirts out of the soapy water. She tutted impatiently at him as he struggled with the next load of clothes and dumped them in the murky water.

"You are ridiculous. How can you except to…"out man" me when you can't even do a load of washing?" She jibed. "Look for the Lord's sake lemme show you…" She bustled past him, standing squarely between him and the tub. "What you have to do… is work your hands _hard_ over the stains otherwise they don't commout... you see?"

She began rubbing at the stain, unaware that she was also rubbing herself against Mr. Todd in the process. His eyes were slowly becoming wider and wider and his cheeks redder and redder. "See? _That's _how you wash a shirt," She said satisfied, holding the shirt up for him to see.

"I see," He squeaked.

Mrs. Lovett moved away to get more shirts. "You have to rub _harder_, Mr. Todd,"

"I see," His voice seemed to be becoming higher and higher.

Mrs. Lovett was completely unaware of any stir she had caused and was fumbling around in a pile of bloodied shirts sitting in a basket in the corner.

Mr. Todd tried to concentrate on washing the clothing, but It was so damned hot in this tiny, overheated laundry room… didn't the woman ever open a window? He pushed his damp hair out of his eyes and rolled his sleeves up. Sweat had collected at his collar and arms already.

"Can't we open the window?" He asked her desperately, as she poured more steaming water into the tub.

"Of course not. We don't want to lose the heat, do we?" She clucked.

"Don't we?" He replied faintly.

She didn't reply but poured yet more clothes into the soapy water for him to scrub. "There you go, love. Get yur' hands dirty,"

She went and leant against the wall, watching him beadily as he struggled with the clothes.

Mr. Todd dunked his arms into the water, beginning to press hard at the badly stained shirts. Next time he was making his customers wear bibs… The water was pooling over his shirtsleeves, making them stick uncomfortably to his skin. He was hot, wet and sweaty… this was torture beyond anything he could believe. How did she _do _this every week???

"Mind you get under the collar, dear," Mrs. Lovett remarked distractedly, she had dug out an ancient copy of _Ladies' Journal _and rifled through it as she leant against the laundry wall.

"I _am_," He said irritably, quickly snatching at a shirt he thought he'd finished and scrubbing swiftly under the neckline before she noticed.

It really was _very _stuffy in here… He shook his hair in frustration, trying to stop it from clinging so uncomfortably to his skin. His shirt was clinging damply to his body, sweaty and sodden with water and suds… He paused, staring down at his sodden shirt. Perhaps… he could just loosen his shirt a little? He glanced at Mrs. Lovett. She was immersed in an article about counterfeit hairpins, unlikely to notice if Mr. Todd undid a button… or two…

"Ah that's better…" He said relieved, relishing the feel of fresh air against his chest. He stuck his hands back into the soapy water and began his work again.

Five minutes later, his soaked shirtsleeves were beginning to grate on his nerves… With another glance at Mrs. Lovett he undid a few more buttons and then with a slight pause proceeded to take it off completely, letting it drop to the side. Ah… that was better...

He tried to concentrate on the washing, scrubbing like Mrs. Lovett had shown him and being careful to get under the collar. He had been working for about ten minutes when he noticed that a large stain of water had accumulated on the front of his trousers… He peered at Mrs. Lovett… well… he looked at his trousers…_well_…

He shrugged. It wasn't like she was some blushing virgin of sixteen. She was… God he didn't know _how_ old and she was no prude… He carefully undid his trouser buckle and let them drop to the ground, kicking them to the side. He was dressed only in a rather faded pair of cotton, knee-length drawers and nothing on top. He still had his boots on too; he didn't want to step on anything… nasty.

He went back to his washing, feeling much more comfortable despite being barely dressed in a woman's laundry room. Lucy certainly wouldn't have allowed him to walk around with only his underclothes on but… well… Lucy wasn't here so he felt he was entitled to go all natural if he jolly well wanted to. He had almost finished scrubbing the last of the stained shirts when he heard Mrs. Lovett stir behind him.

"O' right Mr. Todd how are you fair- Oh my...." He heard something flap to the ground and land on the stone floor.

Mr. Todd turned to her and she stared at him, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyes round. He stared back. Hadn't she ever seen a man in his underclothes before…? Wait… He slowly looked down at his almost completely bare frame then up at the gawking Mrs. Lovett. WHAT THE _DEVIL_ WAS HE DOING?!

With a yelp he dragged his sodden shirt across him, trying in vain to shield himself from Mrs. Lovett's gaze.

"I- I'm sorry," He garbled faintly, making his escape through the laundry door.

Mrs. Lovett watched him go with wide eyes. Had she just hallucinated… or had Sweeney Todd just been doing washing in her laundry wearing nary but his underwear and boots?

_End of Chapter Two_


	3. Hair Cut

**Author's Notes:** You may have noticed my pitiful reference to Harry Potter in the first chapter:

_"Scared, Mrs. Lovett?" He sneered, lifting the second tumbler of gin to his lips._

_"You wish,"_

Yes, I am a dork XD Anyways... Chapter Three. Not much to say really. No warnings to give. It's all fluffy fun. Anywhoo. LOVE reviews. Thanks sooooo much. I'm just stoked you actually like it XD

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Hair Cut

Mr. Todd entered his barbershop the following morning, having spent the previous evening actively avoiding Mrs. Lovett, to find his trousers folded neatly on his barber's chair. A parchment note was lying innocently on top and when he peered closer at it he deciphered Mrs. Lovett's spindly handwriting:

_Thought you might want these back,_

_N. Lovett_

Narrowing his eyes at the woman's insolence he tore up the note and tossed the remnants crossly on the floor. Placing a hand gingerly on his trousers he felt that they were still warm from Mrs. Lovett's iron. She had obviously placed them there barely ten minutes prior. He scowled. She was mocking him. She had the upper hand and at this rate he'd never prove his masculinity to her or anyone else.

If only he'd been intelligent enough to keep his wits about him. But he seemed to do stupid things whenever Mrs. Lovett was concerned. Ridiculous situations that he wouldn't find himself in if her knowing smirk didn't irritate him so and her obvious belief that he was under her complete command spur him into ill thought action.

He rounded on his mirror and glared at his reflection. Being controlled by a _woman_! It was humiliating. Well… he had to reassert his dominance. After all, he could once make the woman's eyes widen in alarm when he shoved her against the wall with his razor or ordered her out of his barbershop. Now when he did so she seemed entirely unfazed by his attempts to unnerve her. She would either roll her cynical, brown eyes at him or make some snide comment about it being his…"time of the month".

He kicked his dresser furiously. All this pent up anger. All this murderous frustration and it didn't make him any more of a man than if he was a meatless, long haired shrimp like… _Anthony_.

He absentmindedly played with a strand of his ashy hair, hanging low by his neck. His hair fell untidily to the nape of his neck, meeting the collar of a deeply wrinkled, cotton shirt. Perhaps it was the hair that ruined his masculinity? Most men kept their hair short these days or at least styled or tied it back if they happened to have the time or inclination. But Mr. Todd didn't have time to style his hair. He had throats to cut…

He titled his head slightly at his reflection. But… it couldn't harm just to try? He glanced at a pair of scissors lying alongside his neatly kept, well-sharpened razors. He wasn't completely useless with a pair of scissors, after all his hands were skilled enough to give the closest shave in London. In all sense of the word.

He glanced shiftily over his shoulder and leant hesitantly for the scissors.

--

The corners of Mrs. Lovett's mouth twitched as she rolled her dough that morning. Every time she pictured Mr. Todd in his little drawers and boots an involuntary smile would be drawn from her. It did make her wonder though. What on earth had got into the man this week? Barely days before he had been his usual brooding, sullen, bitter self and now he was treating her to a private peep show in a daft attempt to try and prove his _masculinity_. It was all a mystery to her! _Why_ the man had suddenly become so fascinated in his own manliness (or lack there of) was a complete conundrum to her. Hadn't the man been hell bent on murdering the judge and avenging his stupid wife's 'death' (she glanced nervously outside the shop window) barely three days prior? Perhaps he really was as unhinged as she had always feared he was…

Funnily enough 'insecure' Sweeney Todd made her more nervous than 'murderous rampaging' Sweeney Todd. At least she knew where she stood when he was doing his murderous rampaging but now… she didn't know whether he felt _threatened _by her because she was a solitary, independent woman or because she could drink more than he could… not to mention beat the pants off him at arm wrestling… Speaking of pants. She glanced instinctively at the ceiling. Just about now the barber would be discovering his trousers on his chair, washed and ironed. She had partly done it to irritate him and partly because she had a motherly instinct which had been starved for years.

She leant vaguely on the baking table for a moment, thinking dreamily (as she often did) about the day that Sweeney would eventually agree to marry her. He would. Eventually he'd realize that his batty wife and air-headed daughter were lost to him and he'd turn to Mrs. Lovett. The woman who had been there all the time… She sighed and gave herself a little shake, returning to her dough. Well, he'd never marry her at this rate. Not if he was used to useless damsels in distress like Lucy. On the other hand, he wouldn't want to marry a man…

She laid her rolling pin down again and tried clasping her hands together at her chest in the fashion she'd often seen the ridiculous princesses in storybooks do. It didn't seem right on her. Her dark, tangled hair and well-worn work dress seemed ill placed with the expression of a damsel. With a slight scowl she returned to rolling the dough. If Mr. Todd wanted a bloody china doll then he was challenging the wrong woman. Years of fear and loneliness had made Mrs. Lovett as hard as nails and she certainly wouldn't be laying down to the likes of _him _even if he _was_ desperately clinging to some dreamy notion of masculinity long worn down by years of hopelessness and lack of nourishment.

At that moment she heard footsteps approaching from her back rooms. It was either Toby angling for a taste of gin before the customers began arriving or Mr. Todd angling for a taste of gin before the victims began arriving. She decided that if it were the latter she would ignore him. She was in no mood for his sour jibes and his sullen resentment of her ability to keep her clothes on while he seemed disinclined to do so-

"Mrs. Lovett,"

Damn. She couldn't jolly well ignore a direct verbalization... or could she? She made an offhanded 'mmm?' at him and continued rolling her dough, her head determinedly down.

"I want to thank you for returning my trousers," He went on casually. "It was much appreciated,"

Mrs. Lovett almost jerked her head at him in her surprise at his unexpected gratitude. But she managed to contain herself.

"That's perfectly alright," She said primly, inwardly glowing with delight at his apparent appreciation. She continued on with her work, aware that he was standing just in front of her table. She could see his scuffed boot toes and worn trouser hems. He wanted her to look at him but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of making her do so.

"I wanted to say just how much I appreciate you," He went on in a voice dripping with honey. "God, you just do so much for me."

She grunted at him. So hard… not to look…

"I mean… you're such a capable woman…" He went on silkily, snaking a hand onto her baking table and stroking his fingers over its surface. "So… strong and able…"

She twitched. Must. Not. Give. In. To. Sexy. Barber…

"Gosh… Mrs. Lovett you really are super," He was beginning to run out of steam. Obviously fifteen years of exile had diminished his ability to praise women because 'super' wasn't usually a word women associated with marriage…

"Thank you," She said in a voice several times higher than usual. She had dug her nails into the underside of the table to stop herself from looking up and melting all over the table in the heat of Mr. Todd's gaze.

He bent his lips next to her ear. "Will you marry me, Mrs. Lovett?" He breathed.

She bolted up so fast that she cricked her neck and almost tore both her arms off in the process as well as Mr. Todd's nose. On seeing the barber though her expression changed from delight to shock so quickly that the marriage proposal was almost completely forgotten.

"… What… have… you… _done?"_ She said in a trembling voice.

"I cut it," He said smugly, flicking his ruined fringe.

Mrs. Lovett's jaw had almost hit the tabletop. "Yes… I can see that…"

If masculinity had been the target, it had been sorely missed. The front was at least an inch shorter than the rest of his hair giving him the impression of some strange monk and he hadn't bothered to do the back properly so it was trailing at the nape of his neck like some dead skunk attached this his head. He had given himself some sort of attempted fringe and God knows what he was styling it on because it looked like one big, long cowlick.

"Do you like it?" He asked her.

"Oh… my… God," Was her reply, she was still staring at him like he had just announced he was planning on entering _Australian Idol_.

"My scissors broke half way through but then I just got my razor and started hacking at it," He explained offhandedly, obviously extremely pleased with his attempt.

"Oh… my… God…" Mrs. Lovett stared horrified at him. What had possessed him??? Was he doing this to punish her??? Oh dear God, why did you send her this insane barber?

"… And then I found some toenail clippers so I used those too," He went on with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Oh my _God_,"

--

"Ow! You're _hurting _me!"

"I don't bloody care. How could you _do _this to your hair?" Snapped Mrs. Lovett as she slashed away at Mr. Todd's monstrosity in an attempt to make him presentable.

"It looks manly," He said stubbornly.

"It looks like a bloody mess," Mrs. Lovett retorted, purposely dragging the comb through his matted hair as roughly as possible.

He yelped and slapped a hand at her. "Stop it!"

"And fancy playing a trick on me like that?" She said shrilly, not heeding his command. "_'Will you marry me'!_ Ha! _Can't_ believe I fell for that. That's just unfair, that is!"

"Well, it worked didn't it," He said sourly.

"Yes. Well done. You are _such _a bleeding genius." She cut off a hunk of matted hair viciously and slammed the comb onto his dresser.

Seated in his own barber's chair, Mr. Todd was now facing the consequences of his experimentation. Mrs. Lovett was not in the mood to be gentle and she was wielding the scissors like a bloody madman. Mr. Todd's hair still looked like someone had thrown up over it and then used the vomit to style it.

"We'll never ave' another customer," Mrs. Lovett snarled, dumping a cup of icy water over his head and not heeding his protesting shout. "You… you… _stupid_ man!"

"I am _not _stupid," He retorted.

"Yes you are,"

"No I'm not,"

"Yes you are,"

"No I'm NOT."

"Yes you ARE."

"NOT."

"ARE."

"NO-

"Oh shut up," She snapped, tugging crossly on a tangled strand of his fringe.

For once Mr. Todd listened and shut up.

_End of Chapter Three_

**A/N:** I did abruptly realise soon after writing this that I had just cut all Sweeney Todd's hair off. Magic hair growing potion? Common'. Totally could happen XD


	4. Pins

**Author's Notes: **Thought it was time for a bit of Sweenett sexual tension. It's only a smidgen but it's there! Teeny, weeny bit of Anthony bashing but not much sadly. Patience my pet... And of course, my usual stupidity XD

**Disclaimer: I only own the storyline.**

Pins

Mr. Todd stared blankly at his reflection in his dresser mirror. It was all too depressing. His hair. _Gone. _And all that remained was an untidy crown of tangled ashy tresses. His image was ruined and his hopes of proving his masculinity to Mrs. Lovett dashed.

"It's not fair," He wailed at his reflection.

Mrs. Lovett's less than gentle handling of the situation had resulted in him being forced to have most of his hair hacked off. He looked like Toby for God's sake. And it was all _her _fault. Why couldn't she just leave him be?

"Morning, dear," The baker in question said cheerfully as she bustled into his shop, breakfast tray in hand. "Sleep well?"

"No," He said stonily, not turning to her.

"What's wrong?" She asked him, peering over his shoulder as he glowered into his mirror. "What you lookin' at?"

"Nothing," He said through gritted teeth.

"You're not _still_ sulking over your hair," She quipped, rolling her eyes and pushing past him to put his breakfast on the dresser top. "Maybe this'll teach you not to do stupid things-

He glared at her. "It looked fine,"

Mrs. Lovett sighed. There was no arguing with him. He had reverted back to 'I'm such a sulky barber' mode and now refused to take meals with her or come down from his shop at all most days. Which was fine with Mrs. Lovett, she had pies to bake and it was nice to know that maybe his masculinity insecurities were over. She was even relieved she wouldn't hear anymore about drinking matches or arm-wrestles but his constant, unwavering surliness was frightening away customers and she knew he was hell bent on revenge but it was no good if they couldn't even get the bastards through the door…

"I'm going to town today," He shot at her over his shoulder as she was leaving.

"Really?" She said, stopping abruptly at the door.

"I'll need so' money." He said tonelessly, not turning to her.

Lack of customers to Mr. Todd's barbershop over the past week now meant that Mrs. Lovett had more money than Mr. Todd and although he must have been humiliated by the prospect of taking money from a woman it didn't stop him from doing it.

"What are you going for?" She asked him, frowning.

"I'm getting fitted for a new pair of trousers," He replied shortly.

Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth to remark but then slowly closed it. What was the use of jibing? He was already firmly in a misery stupor. She didn't want him turning on her with his razors… or worse his toenail clippers…

She shrugged at him. "I'll order a hack-chaise," She said quietly and took her leave.

--

"I've changed my mind,"

Mrs. Lovett turned in surprise to the barber. They had just been about to leave the shop when Mr. Todd had suddenly spoken.

"Why?" She studied his face carefully.

"People will see me… like this," He said pained, pointing to his ruined hair.

"It looks fine," Mrs. Lovett said bracingly.

"It looks stupid," Mr. Todd said flatly.

"How do you expect to be able to do anything if you refuse to leave the house?" Mrs. Lovett asked him exasperatedly.

"Well…" He eyed her slyly. "I was hoping…"

She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Here it came… little favour number 821…

"_Yes_, Mr. T?"

"You could perhaps… pop out and get it for me," He said injecting just a little silk into his voice to play on Mrs. Lovett's well-tuned heartstrings.

Mrs. Lovett bunched one corner of her mouth up, looking at the barber with raised eyebrows.

This was becoming ridiculous. Soon he'd be asking her to run out to buy him chocolate and tampons at three in the morning…

"Alright," She sighed finally. "What do you want me to do?"

--

"_Ouch_! Thatwas on purpose!"

"Yes, Mr. Todd. I purposely jabbed you with a pin as blunt as a clothing peg." Mrs. Lovett said thickly through a mouthful of pins. "Could you not move so much? I'm trying to make it stay…"

Mr. Todd scowled at her but stopped squirming on the footstool. He had insisted that she measure him and adjust his present trousers so that they fit him just as he wanted his new ones to. He had lost an awful lot of weight over the past few weeks and his present trousers were liable to fall down if he didn't adjust his belt so tightly he almost couldn't exhale.

Thus he found himself standing as stiffly as possible to avoid the pointy wrath of Mrs. Lovett's pins while she attempted to find and fix the measurements. That included using pins…lots of them. As Mr. Todd had learnt the hard way, Mrs. Lovett was not renowned for her tactility and as he soon found out pins + Mrs. Lovett = lots of pain for the unfortunate barber now propped up on a footstool in Mrs. Lovett's living room.

Armed also with a tape measure she was measuring every nook and cranny in order to ensure the trousers would fit. Up to this point it hadn't been particularly uncomfortable as she had only been taking his length and ankle width but soon she'd have to put it around his thigh and, remembering the laundry incident a few days prior, Mr. Todd was determined to act as nonchalantly as possible. He would not give her the satisfaction of drawing from him the same soprano squeak she had in the laundry…or even worse somehow make him take his clothes off... Hmph. It was all her fault.

"Done," He heard her mutter as she stood up from his right leg. "The ankles, at least. Now we'll have to do the rest. Why you couldn't just go to the seamstress I don't know,"

In truth Nellie Lovett didn't mind having access to Mr. Todd's lower half with a tape measure although she gave a great show of it being a troublesome inconvenience. As she slid the tape measure around the part of his leg just above the knee he gave a slight twitch.

"Stop moving," She commanded, taking a pin from between her lips and pressing it into the material. "Honestly, _men_."

He grumbled something under his breath that she didn't quite catch but she ignored him and gave him a not-so accidental jab with her pin.

"You're going to have to spread your legs wider-

"What?" He said sharply, jerking his head at her.

"…So I can get the tape measure in-

"In where?" His voice broke.

"… Between your legs, o' course," She clucked. "Honestly. Do you want a saggy crotch or what? You know what these seamstresses are like. Always assuming men have the longest-

"I GET THE POINT!"

She battled with a grin but didn't say anything. She _did_ wonder how long Mr. Todd's-

"Ow! Stop staring off into space! Concentrate on what your doing! You're sticking those pins everywhere!" He barked from his perch.

"Alright, alright," She grumbled, straightening up. "Now. Part your legs,"

He sent her a pained look but obliged, spreading his boots as far apart as they could go on the footstool without sliding off the edges.

With a slight smirk Mrs. Lovett took her tape measure and slid it around his muscular right thigh. He gave a convulsive jerk as her hands slid between his legs. Mrs. Lovett glanced up at the fiercely blushing barber; he was staring straight ahead with a determinedly indifferent expression on his face, as if he didn't mind in the slightest having Mrs. Lovett shove a tape measure in his crotch.

"Won't take long," Mrs. Lovett said cheerfully, tightening the tape measure and taking the measurement. "Right. Other one." She bustled around to his other leg and threaded the measuring tape around his left thigh. "How are you fairing?"

He made a high-pitched, non-committal noise in reply, still avoiding Mrs. Lovett's gaze.

"Honestly, Mr. Todd." She said off-handedly as she squinted at the measurement. "You make such a fuss out of nothing," She carefully slid the pins into the material, her face inches from Mr. Todd's crotch…

She still had a single pin wedged between her teeth, carefully poised so it didn't pierce her tongue.

"Nearly done?" Mr. Todd asked impatiently, peering at her from atop the footstool.

"Nearly," She replied vaguely, not bothering to rush threading the last pins into the material. She quite liked the view from where she was kneeling-

"MR. TODD!"

Mrs. Lovett jerked back to avoid Mr. Todd's swerving body as an unwelcome guest came hurtling into her living room. She almost swallowed the pin balancing between her teeth.

"Oh… my…' Said a very faint voice behind her. She couldn't look. She didn't want to know who had found her kneeling in front of Mr. Todd, her mouth perfectly level with his-

"Stupid boy!" Mr. Todd bellowed, not daring to move in case he disturbed the pins. "Get out!"

"Careful, Mr. Todd! You nearly jammed it down my throat!" Mrs. Lovett spluttered, coughing the pin into her hand.

Behind her Anthony made a shuddering squeak and Mrs. Lovett heard him retreat into her kitchen. She should have known. Anthony_. Bloody Anthony_.

"Did you _have_ to say that?" Mr. Todd said crossly, as Mrs. Lovett stumbled to her feet.

"What?' She said distractedly as she dusted herself off.

"The thing…" He attempted to stoop to her on the stool but gave a wince as various pins dug into his skin. "About… the thing… being jammed down your throat," He said out of the corner of his mouth, as though they were in a busy shop surrounded by people and not hidden away in Mrs. Lovett's back room.

Mrs. Lovett frowned at him for a moment before it clicked. Then she burst into laughter.

"Shut up!" He snapped at her. "Are you trying to sabotage me?"

Mrs. Lovett tried to control her laughter. "Sorry… Mr. Todd… it's just… you're too ridiculous," She shook her head. "Not even _you _have a-

"La la la la," Mr. Todd said loudly, plugging his ears with his gloved fingers. "If I can't hear you, you and your stupid comments don't exist,'

-_that_ long,"

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,' He growled, standing down gingerly from the stool with his fingers still in his ears.

"Oh for goodness sake," Mrs. Lovett said reprovingly. "Take your fingers out of our ears and get out of those trousers so I can take them to the seamstresses,"

"La la la la la," He said stubbornly, glowering at her and not removing his fingers from his ears.

"Come on, take your trousers off," Mrs. Lovett said impatiently, putting her hands on her hips.

"La la la," He couldn't hear her.

"TAKE YOUR TROUSERS OFF!" Mrs. Lovett roared at him.

He stared at her, mouth open and hands no longer at his ears but hanging limply at his sides. He'd heard her that time…

"Um. Should I come back later?" Anthony had slipped his head around the corner, his pale face fiercely red. He couldn't even meet Mrs. Lovett's eye.

"YES," Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd barked at him in unison.

He disappeared very quickly leaving the two accomplices glaring at each other.

"You didn't have to shout it," He said stiffly.

"You shouldn't have been acting so stupidly," Mrs. Lovett replied crossly.

"I don't want people thinking we're…" He glanced over his shoulder. "_Fraternizing_,"

Mrs. Lovett gave a humorless laugh. "Oh yes! There's scandal of the century there! Mr. Sweeney Todd is screwing his landlady! Big bloody deal."

"Shut _up_," He hissed at her.

"I will _not _shut up!" She said shrilly before he shoved a gloved hand over her mouth.

She struggled against him until she had to admit defeat to a man who was taller than her and had hands like a monkey's.

"Look, why don't we settle this like men?" He asked her quietly, his lips inches from her ear.

She glared at him but stopped clawing at his chest.

"Which reminds me. We never set any terms," He said, his eyes glinting.

She rolled her eyes from behind his hand, still clasped over her mouth.

"I want to know your terms," He insisted.

"Well… I can't bloody well tell you when you have your grubby hand over my mouth, can I?" She burst out angrily managing to scramble out of his grip.

"What are the stakes?" He pressed her.

"I don't know," She mumbled crossly, dusting off her dress. "I'm sick to death with all this stupid masculinity rot,"

"So you admit defeat?" He said slyly.

She looked sharply at him. "Not a chance," She said sourly.

"Well then. Accept my challenge," He said quietly, smirking at her. "Agree to settle in like a man,"

She glowered at him, hands on hips. Honestly, when would it end? When she admitted she was a helpless damsel and he a manly hero? Not a chance! Or when she ground him in to the… ground and broke what was left of his miserable spirit? Also, not appealing. Or was she doomed to take part in an endless cascade of drinking and arm wrestling with the man she wanted to marry?

"Fine." She snapped. "_Fine_,"

She turned on her heel and stomped out, no longer in the mood for Sweeney Todd and his masculinity mania. Mr. Todd, on the other hand, watched her go quite satisfied. He was back in the game. Who cared about _hair_? He had another chance to prove his masculinity and this time, he wasn't going to lose to her.

He gave a triumphant cackle. He was so evil…. He began towards the door and felt several sharp prods into his leg at the same time. Damn. The stupid pins… He glanced down. How the hell was he supposed to get them off without gouging his skin out? Oh God… he really didn't want to do this…

"Mrs. Lovett?" He called unenthusiastically.

Sigh. Victory was so much less satisfying when you had to ask your opponent to help remove your trousers…

_End of Chapter Four_


	5. Potatoes

**Author's Notes: **Sorry it took a little longer than usual to get this one done XD School work... --cringe-- Anyways a little smidgen more Sweenettness for yooooooooou.

Another thank you to everyone who reviewed XD I love, love, love feedback. Don't be shy ;)

**Disclaimer:** **Noooo sadly I don't own them. I put them into arenas and make them poke each other with pointy sticks.**

Potatoes

Ah, Sundays. Sundays were Mrs. Lovett's weekly treat. Sundays were the only day of the week she could sleep in past six without the stress of knowing she had to cook and clean and open the shop at nine o' clock sharp. Sundays were blissful, she could sleep in to ten then drag herself lazily from her bed and allow herself some bread and marmalade before spending the day pottering around dusting or watering her flowers or else burning the left over corpses from the day before and listening to Mr. Todd pace almost ceaselessly above her. Toby would follow her about; good naturedly chattering away about things Mrs. Lovett could only pretend to be interested in and twice a day Mrs. Lovett would travel upstairs with a tray of food for the brooding barber.

Just laying in bed thinking about the lovely, lazy day she had ahead of her made Mrs. Lovett smile sleepily into her pillow. She lifted her head heavily from the pillow to glance at her wall clock and seeing that it was barely eight o' clock sunk back into the softness, sighing contentedly. She fell into a dreamy doze. Ah… lovely Sundays. Lovely, sleepy, lazy Sundays-

"Good morning,"

Oh hell no.

"Go _away_," Mrs. Lovett groaned, not lifting her head from her pillow.

Mr. Todd smirked. He knew Mrs. Lovett slept in on Sundays and it gave him pleasure to ruin her weekly enjoyment. Purely for the reason that _he _never slept more than three hours a night. In his opinion if _he_ was tortured by bouts of insomnia and when he did manage to fall asleep, vivid dreams of his dying wife and imprisoned child then no one else should have the luxury of sleep either.

"It's time to get up, my love," He said sweetly into her ear. "Time to prove that you're a man,"

Mrs. Lovett grumbled something unintelligible into her pillow.

"Get up now or forfeit," Mr. Todd commanded, getting to his feet and towering over Mrs. Lovett. "Or should I make you get up?"

"You're _unbelievable_," Mrs. Lovett snarled, opening one furious eye and fixing it on his hulking figure at the side of her bed. "Threatening poor, defenseless women in bed,"

"What can I say?" Mr. Todd replied coolly. "I'm a demon barber. Now, my pet. Get up, get dressed and meet me upstairs or I'll find Toby and-

"I'M UP!" Mrs. Lovett bellowed at him. "GET OUT."

--

Mr. Todd tapped his fingers impatiently on his windowsill, staring darkly into the bustling streets below as he waited for Mrs. Lovett to drag herself from her bed. Of course he wasn't particularly interested in killing Toby but he enjoyed taunting Mrs. Lovett with his constant suggestions that he would one day slit the little boy's throat. He relished the way a flash of intense fright would pass over her dark eyes and then turn almost instantly into fury when she realised he was… well 'joking' wasn't the right word…'tormenting' was more accurate.

A slight smirk passed over his lips and he left his window, wandering through his deserted barbershop to where he had stacked thirteen or fourteen sacks of potatoes against the far wall. Each most likely weighing twenty-five kilos or more. Early that morning, while Mrs. Lovett and Toby were still sound asleep, he had slunk down to Mrs. Lovett's store cupboard and lugged them up, one by one. It had taken an hour because he had to ensure he wasn't making any noise and Mrs. Lovett's floorboards groaned almost incessantly as he walked over them. Every time he had passed Mrs. Lovett's closed door he had held his breath, sure that at any moment her dark hair would appear at the door above sleepy, questioning eyes. Fortunately she proved to be a heavy sleeper and he had managed to get all of the potatoes into his barbershop without any interruptions. It was also fortunate that Toby was too terrified of him to leave his room at night because Mr. Todd felt that, if he had been discovered by the little boy, he would be justified in killing him.

"Alright. You ungrateful, inconsiderate wretch, what's the emergency?" Mrs. Lovett had arrived, dressed hurriedly in a thoroughly wrinkled work dress and her tangled hair swept up carelessly in a bob on top of her head.

Mr. Todd smirked at her. "Nice of you to join me."

"Shut up." Mrs. Lovett said matter-of-factly. "You've just ruined my day off. So I suggest you tell me what's going on or I _will_ make you into a pie,"

"Like to see you try," Mr. Todd muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," He said briskly. "Anyway-

"Are they my potatoes?" Mrs. Lovett said suddenly, noticing the potatoes stacked up against the wall. "_What _are you doing with my potatoes?" She demanded, storming over to them.

"It's a task," Mr. Todd said, sounding very pleased with himself. "To see whose the strongest,"

"We've already established that you arm wrestle like a girl," Mrs. Lovett reminded him. "Actually scratch that. A girl would have been more of a challenge than you-

"Alright I get it," Mr. Todd said loudly. "Well then I assume you won't have any trouble in proving it,"

Mrs. Lovett stared at him with one eyebrow cocked. Would he never give up?

"That's where the potatoes come into it," He said, nudging the potato sacks with his boot toe.

"What. Eating?" Mrs. Lovett said, baffled. "We're going to eat potatoes to prove you're a man-

"No, we are not going to eat them," Mr. Todd said irritably. "Will you shut up please."

Mrs. Lovett shrugged at him. It seemed logical to her that if there was a huge pile of potatoes they were for eating. Not that she really wanted to eat three tones of raw potatoes-

"We're going to carry them," Mr. Todd said simply.

Mrs. Lovett stared at him. "_Carry _them?"

"Yes. _Carry them. Carry the potatoes. _Is that too hard for you to understand?" Mr. Todd snapped at her. "We split the sacks into two equal piles and carry them and whoever gets them to the storeroom first is-

"Yes, yes I know." Mrs. Lovett said, rolling her eyes. "_Manly_."

"Yes," Mr. Todd said stiffly rather put out by her lack of admiration for his potato transportation skills.

"Well… let's get on with it then," Mrs. Lovett said impatiently, beginning to lug the potato sacks into two piles. "I have plants to water…"

Mr. Todd hastened to help her, not wanting to seem like he was leaving it to a woman to do all the hard work. It took a little while to get them into two piles.

"We should carry two sacks each," Mr. Todd said quickly as Mrs. Lovett was lugging up her first. She sent him a displeased look but obliged, struggling up with a second. Bloody hell they were heavy…

Mr. Todd hauled a sack onto each shoulder, it wasn't so bad. He had managed to do fifteen years of similar work when he was deported so carrying two bags of potatoes on his shoulders wasn't overwhelmingly strenuous.

"Ready?" He asked Mrs. Lovett. She was almost bent over completely under the weight of the sacks.

"Yes," She managed to gasp. The pain across her shoulders and back was almost crippling…

She was furious to see Mr. Todd didn't seem to be having the same trouble with his sacks. His broad, strong shoulders were holding the potatoes almost effortlessly. He was upright while she could barely lift her head. How was she supposed to travel down the stairs without being crushed to death…

"You know." Mr. Todd said slyly, eyeing her as she struggled under her potatoes. "We don't have to do this,"

Mrs. Lovett struggled to look at him, she ended up eye to crotch rather than eye to eye. "What?"

"If you forfeit," Mr. Todd smirked.

"Shut up," Snarled Mrs. Lovett, forcing herself to stand up as straight as she could manage. "Let's go,"

It was torture. Absolute torture. Mrs. Lovett could barely get down the stairs without almost stumbling and flying down the stairs, she almost collapsed under the weight of the potatoes and by her third journey she had given up trying to keep her head up. She was hot, in pain and obviously losing. Mr. Todd seemed to be having little trouble with his potatoes. At first he was only a few feet in front of her but soon he was coming up the stairs when she was still going down them. So humiliating…

Meanwhile, Mr. Todd was feeling gleeful. Not only was he flogging Mrs. Lovett at her own game but he had the delight of seeing her suffering under the weight of the potatoes, her dress dragging down and her hair spilling out of its bob.

By her eighth journey Mrs. Lovett was beyond exhausted. She was in intense pain and she was almost flat against the ground under the weight of the fifty kilograms of potatoes. She dragged up two sacks of potatoes… and then after a slight hesitation she dropped them and collapsed onto the floor, lying flat on her back, her chest heaving with haggard breaths.

"Oh God," She gasped. "Oh God…kill…me…"

When Mr. Todd arrived a few minutes later he was greeted with the sight of Mrs. Lovett's exhausted figure sprawled on the door, her dress hitched up almost eight inches higher than what was proper. Mr. Todd sniggered. For the first time in many weeks he felt manly.

--

"Drink up,"

Mrs. Lovett didn't even bother looking up. She was slumped at the table, her head in her hands, staring moodily into space.

"Or do you want something weaker?" Mr. Todd said snidely. "Something a bit easier for you to handle,"

Mrs. Lovett sent him a icy look and snatched the bottle of gin from him, taking a deep swig from it and almost throwing up. God. Gin did not help fatigue.

"Those potatoes better not be bruised," Mrs. Lovett croaked, avoiding his gaze.

"Maybe now's a good time to talk about terms-

"One more word about terms and I'll shove this bottle up your-

"Temper, Mrs. Lovett," He said smugly. "I've decided what I want from you,"

"What," Mrs. Lovett said unenthusiastically.

He smirked at her. "A rematch,"

She stared at him, still leaning heavily on her arm. "What."

"Another drinking match," He clarified.

Mrs. Lovett buried her head into her hands and gave a muffled scream of frustration. One of these days she was going to _kill _him.

--

If there was something Mrs. Lovett loved more than Sunday mornings it was having a bath. Something that she didn't often do because of the arduous task of heating and fetching the water for the tub. The tub itself was situated in the downstairs laundry alongside the tub she did her laundry in and as such it was lovely and warm in there when she had her bath. The steam from the recently filled laundry tub would make the room warm before she'd even filled the bathtub and when she did it was almost stifling. Not that she minded, she loved warmth.

Tonight, after her disastrous attempt at lugging the potatoes, the bath was particularly enjoyable. The feel of the hot water seeping over her hot, aching, filthy body was heavenly. She sunk through the suds and bubbles, letting the water swallow her hair and drag it down her shoulder. She didn't often let her hair down, so to speak, but when she did it almost reached her ribs with its voluminous, chocolate brown tresses. She grabbed for her soap and lathered it up, coating herself in it. The pile of shirts she had finished washing and ironing for Mr. Todd was still sitting neatly on a chair in the corner. She really should have taken them to him before she bathed but she was still snubbing him for his nerve to beat her at something so she decided he could wait a while for his clean shirts. Wasn't like they stayed that way for long anyway…

--

Mr. Todd crossed to his dresser in the hunt for a clean shirt. He hadn't changed his shirt all day and was becoming aware of the unpleasant yellow look it had accumulated from a mix of dirt and sweat. He tore it off as he went across to the dresser. He loved not wearing shirts but now that he lived with Mrs. Lovett he felt compelled to wear his clothes unless he was sure he was unlikely to be surprised by her. However she seemed to feel perfectly at ease to burst in on him whenever she liked. He scowled to himself. She really was very meddling.

He pulled open his dresser and to his chagrin found it completely bare. He swore viciously under his breath and glared at the dirty shirt on the floor. He really didn't want to pull the sweat soaked, filthy thing back on…

He'd have to travel to the laundry…

--

Mrs. Lovett was almost finished. She had washed her hair and body and the shirts on the chair were nagging at her. She couldn't easily forget her niggling motherly instinct. She knew that Mr. Todd would soon want a clean shirt and if he couldn't find one he'd storm and complain. With a sigh she slid her legs up to her chest, savouring the last, lingering breaths of warmth and then with a deep breath, stood up. The air was freezing compared to the warm, soapy water and her hair stood on end. Shivering, she slid a leg out of the bath, staring around for her robe. She couldn't see it anywhere. It was unlike her to forget to bring it in when she was bathing…she _had _brought it in… hadn't she…

Damn, damn, _damn_. She swore violently at the annoying typicality of this event and stared around for an alternate cover. Her eyes settled on Mr. Todd's shirts. Surely it couldn't hurt if she just put it on so she could get to her bedroom…? She'd wash it again and Mr. Todd would be none the wiser.

Making up her mind, she hurried to the pile of shirts and dragged the top one on quickly. It stuck to her skin and within seconds was almost completely see-through. It barely fell below her thighs but it would do. She hurried back to the tub and fished the soap from its depths, before draining it. She turned clumsily on the wet tiles and began padding towards the door.

--

Mr. Todd descended the stairs and turned the corner to the hallway. It was deserted and he couldn't hear any noises from the kitchen…Mrs. Lovett must have already been in bed. As for Toby, he'd be hidden away in his room if his mistress were. Silly boy.

Sweeney hadn't bothered putting his shirt back on. He couldn't be bothered and the thought of putting a dirty shirt back on was revolting. He had already removed his belt too so his trousers were sliding around his hips, much lower than he usually had them. Turning another corner he began down a short, stone corridor which led to the laundry. The door was closed and as he approached it he silently prayed that it wasn't locked. Usually Mrs. Lovett kept the key to the laundry in her pocket. Tonight however, as he turned the knob, the usual resistant 'click' was not heard and it turned.

"Excellent," He smirked as he went in. "Too ea-

A woman screamed. And for a moment Mr. Todd was in shock.

Mrs. Lovett was before him, dressed rather scantily in what looked like one of _his _shirts. It was barely covering her and Mr. Todd was frozen in astonishment, unable to comprehend what he was seeing… well he was seeing quite a lot…

Mrs. Lovett threw her hands across herself. "GET OUT." She screamed at him for the second time that day. "GET OUT. GET OUT. GET _OUT._"

Mr. Todd snapped into action, stumbling clumsily for the door and slamming it behind him. He slumped against the wall, heaving with heavy breaths. Even as he slumped against the wall he felt a strange, weak spasm somewhere below- GAH! BAD BARBER. He slapped himself sharply.

Mrs. Lovett was frozen in mortified silence. Oh God. How could this happen to her? She was always so careful. She always usually locked the door. She always usually had her robe. She always usually made sure she took Mr. Todd's shirts to him before she bathed. Why was it that the first time she ever neglected to do these tasks Mr. Todd burst in on her wearing nary but a very short, see through shirt? _Why?!_

"It's not fair!" She wailed, burying her head into her hands. She would never be able to show her face to him again. Never again!

Outside, Mr. Todd was beginning to recover. He straightened himself up and began back to his shop, not wanting to be there when Mrs. Lovett eventually emerged. If she felt anything like him, she would not want to see him again for a long time. One thing was certain… he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. Not one wink.

_End of Chapter Five_


	6. Apologising

**Author's Notes:** This is a bit of a linking chapter so it may be a little dull... :S I'm a slow worker lol but I will get there in the end... Toby appears in this chapter for the first time EVER for me. I think I may have aimed a little young for him but you know, it's a learning process and all that...

Thank you AGAIN again to the reviewers. You're all darlings XD I love feedback of all shapes and sizes so don't be shy ;)

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.**

Apologising

It was many weeks before the bashful barber and humiliated baker could say more than three words to each other when they came face to face. Sweeney was not only furious with himself for allowing yet another awkward situation to arise between him and his landlady but was also exceptionally unnerved by his bodily reaction. Something he felt he couldn't help so shouldn't be held accountable for but certainly something which puzzled him when for so long the very thought of touching Mrs. Lovett had repulsed him deeply.

Thoughts of proving his masculinity were banished for these three or four weeks of embarrassed, forced conversations and eye contact avoidance. Mr. Todd even found himself becoming interested again in his task of finding and killing the judge as well as slitting the throats of his customers.

Mrs. Lovett kept herself busy playing perfect hostess to all her customers, chirping mindlessly about the weather or the price of flour and avoiding Mr. Todd's gaze at all costs. Something that wasn't difficult because he seemed to be avoiding her eye as well. They had barely spoken since the bath incident and Mrs. Lovett was privately mortified but outwardly she was determinedly retaining the countenance of cool disinterest despite her active attempts to avoid said barber. Even when she took him his meals she rushed in and out of the room so quickly that he could barely mumble more than a sullen 'thank you' before she was out the door.

Mr. Todd knew that at some point in time he would have to swallow his pride and confront Mrs. Lovett about the incident and perhaps even apologise. It was ridiculous that two accomplices should never speak to each other when they lived above and below each other.

So on the start of the fifth week of them avoiding each other he went to see Mrs. Lovett in her living room on the Monday evening after she had finished cleaning away the mess of that day's business. She was lying peacefully on the settee, (where Mr. Todd remembered with a pang he had woken up a few weeks prior after his and her disastrous drinking match) a book lying on her stomach and her eyes closed. He hesitated above her head resting on the arm of the settee, wondering if he should wake her or wait until the following day. She stirred a little on the settee, her eyes flickering very slightly. Perhaps she wasn't asleep… she could just be resting her eyes? He leant further over her slumbering figure, peering at her closely for signs of life. He held a hand out and then hesitated awkwardly. He wasn't even sure if he was game enough to wake her after all these weeks of awkwardness… What if she accused him of being a pervert? He may have been many things… murderer, sadist, drunk, pessimist -although he thought the last one was perfectly allowable for someone who had lost their wife and daughter- but he was _not _a pervert-

At that moment Mrs. Lovett's eyes flickered open and she gave a jolt of shock at finding Mr. Todd towering over her. She bolted upright and smacked Mr. Todd squarely in the mouth with her forehead. Mr. Todd staggered backwards, clutching at his mouth.

"Urgh!" Mrs. Lovett spluttered. "Wha- what are you doing?"

Mr. Todd scowled at her; his lips were in some serious pain. He gingerly took his hand away from his mouth; both of his lips were inflamed and swollen.

"_Ow_," He snapped at her.

"What the bloody hell are you thinking? _Looming _over me like that?" Mrs. Lovett snapped back, getting roughly to her feet. "What's with you and _watching_ me while I'm asleep?" She added this last part more to annoy him than anything and it certainly worked. Mr. Todd's dark eyes clouded immediately with stung annoyance.

"I wasn't watching you while you were asleep!" He burst out, outraged. "I came to-

He broke off abruptly and after a few moments of furious silence, sent her one last cold look and stomped out of the living room, leaving Mrs. Lovett in the semi-darkness.

--

"Marm?"

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Lovett replied off-handedly, as she carefully counted through the profits for that day's work.

Toby nervously edged around the settee to where she was seated in her fireside chair, orderly piles of money on her lap and around her feet.

"Penny for your troubles?" Mrs. Lovett remarked, glancing up momentarily from her money. "What's wrong, love?"

He opened his mouth and then hesitated and closed it again. He hovered awkwardly at her feet, fumbling with his shirt cuffs.

"Marm…" He cut off again, seeming unsure of how to begin. "You know Mr. Todd?"

Mrs. Lovett looked up sharply but hastily disguised her look of alarm with one of cool disinterest. "Yes. I know Mr. Todd,"

"Well…" Toby knelt down before her, playing absentmindedly with the hem of her dress. "Well…"

He trailed off, tracing a spindly finger down a badly sewn up tear in Mrs. Lovett's creased work dress. Mrs. Lovett pressed a finger under the boy's chin and pushed his head up firmly so his eyes were level with hers.

"What is it, Toby?" She asked him, with just a hint of warning in her voice.

Any mention of Mr. Todd from Toby made her uneasy, especially as the boy was usually too terrified to mention anything about the barber.

Toby gazed at her with wide, uncertain eyes. She nodded encouragingly at him as his lips parted.

"?" Spilt so fast from his lips that it took her a while to realize what he'd said.

Mrs. Lovett stared at him for a few moments before it sunk in. Then, with a sighing laugh of relief she released his chin and lay back in her chair. Thank God.

"Oh, Toby." She laughed. "Of course not," She closed her eyes peacefully.

"But…I heard it's…_sinful_ not to be married when you live with a man," Toby went on, sounding pained that his beloved Mrs. Lovett could possibly do anything sinful.

Mrs. Lovett's eyes flew open and she sat up straight, frowning at Toby. "Who said that?"

"… No one," Toby said unconvincingly.

Mrs. Lovett watched him beadily. She certainly didn't want Toby spreading it about that she was involved with an unmarried man. She'd never have another customer…

"Toby. You must _never_ tell anyone that I and Mr. Todd are… business partners," She said darkly. "If you do… they'll take you away from me," It was actually not far from the truth.

Toby looked frightened. "Alright, marm. I won't tell anyone,"

Mrs. Lovett watched him closely for signs of dishonesty but she saw none in his young, impressionable face. She opened her arms and allowed him to give her a brief embrace and then nudged him away again so she could resume her counting. Toby stayed a little longer, watching his adoptive parent rifle through the notes and pennies.

"Marm?"

"Mmm?"

"… I should like it if you and Mr. Todd got married,"

Mrs. Lovett glanced at him. "I thought you were afraid of Mr. Todd?" She asked off-handedly.

Toby blushed. "No… I'm not…really… much…anyway… I just thought it would be nice to have a mother and a father…"

Mrs. Lovett chuckled. "That's nice, love. Off to bed now,"

Toby shrugged and left her. When he was gone, Mrs. Lovett laid her money down for a moment and sighed. Oh if only…

--

The awkwardness between Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd had worsened since his attempt to apologise and now Mrs. Lovett had even resorted to sending Toby up with Mr. Todd's food to avoid doing it herself. Toby dreaded going up to Mr. Todd's lair and when he did he scurried in and out as quickly as he could without looking at Mr. Todd. Mrs. Lovett, despite being thankful for having a break from Mr. Todd's pestering, was quite missing her little run ins with the barber and even contemplated once or twice breaking the ice herself. However now, whenever she met Mr. Todd, she had a sneaking suspicion he was picturing her in his sodden shirt. Something that would have thrilled her if it had been a fantasy on his own accord… but didn't because it had actually happened…

"_Not that she had anything to be ashamed of,"_ She thought to herself as she passed her mantelpiece mirror.

She paused and turned to the side to examine her shape. Her waist was held in firmly by her corset strings and her bust… was a little saggy… She placed her hands underneath, pushing it upwards… Yes… just a few centimeters and she'd have the chest she had when she was twenty… She let it go… damn. So depressing. She pushed them up again… maybe she could… tie them up with something to keep them there? Hmm-

"What are you doing?"

_Damn. _

Mrs. Lovett spun to Mr. Todd feeling tremendously stupid. "Nothing," She spluttered, hurriedly dropping her arms to her sides.

Mr. Todd stared at her with raised eyebrows for a few moments and then shrugged. Women were so odd sometimes…

"Would you tell your brat not to put so much salt in my soup?" Mr. Todd said stiffly, producing his empty bowl and tumbler.

Mrs. Lovett narrowed her eyes at him. "_Toby _doesn't come anywhere near the kitchen and my soup is _not _salty,"

"Suit yourself," He said coldly, shoving the empty bowl into her hands. He turned on his heel and stalked out.

Mrs. Lovett sighed. Just as she thought that things were going back to normal, the tension would arise again between her and Mr. Todd.

She took the barber's dirty cutlery into the kitchen and dumped them into the sink. Toby was at the table with his evening tumbler of gin.

"You didn't put saltinto Mr. Todd's soup did you?" She asked him, frowning.

He peered at her. "No,"

Mrs. Lovett watched him closely and then with a shrug left him. It was just Mr. Todd being fussy. Honestly. How could Tobyget access to _anything_ and put it into Mr. Todd's soup? It was ridiculous…

Toby watched her go with a pang of guilt. He hated lying to Mrs. Lovett but it was for the greater good. Now that he knew he could do it with salt…he could try something a little stronger…

--

"Here you are, dear" Mrs. Lovett bustled past Mr. Todd with a bottle of gin and a tumbler.

"What's this?" He frowned; she hadn't come up to his shop for a few days now.

"Jus' thought you migh' like some gin before bed," She said cheerfully, placing the bottle and tumbler on his dresser next to a blood stained razor. "Ah, love. You really should wash these off when you've finished with them. Doesn't do much for your image,"

"I usually do," He replied stiffly. "But the boy interrupted me with that God awful soup you concocted,"

"Look. If you ave' a problem with my cooking-

"It doesn't matter either way. You could put arsenic in it and I'd still eat it." He mumbled, pouring himself a tumbler of gin.

Mrs. Lovett was less than pleased with this sentiment but she let it slide. She didn't want any more arguments. Instead she watched him drink down his first tumbler of gin and pour himself another. He must have been brooding on something; he didn't usually drink more than one tumbler before bed. He took the second one straight and then clunked it down on the table. Silence fell on the two, him seated at his dresser and her standing at the window watching him. She wondered whether he wanted her to leave. However, usually Mr. Todd wasn't afraid to be quite vocal when he wanted her out ('_GET OUT_' rang a bell…) and he hadn't as of yet.

"Your hair's grown back well, hasn't it?" Mrs. Lovett said bracingly, groping for a subject.

He grunted in reply without bothering to look round. "Spose',"

The conversation died. Mrs. Lovett felt a pang of annoyance. Tête-à-tête apparently wasn't one of Mr. Todd's loves in life…but then again, what was? His razors? Killing people? Yes. Well. Those didn't count. They were just weird… He needed a hobby. Like…knitting.

Mrs. Lovett snorted. The image of Mr. Todd knitting had materialized readily in her mind.

"What are you laughing at?" Mr. Todd asked her suspiciously.

"Oh nothing…" She replied airily, taking the opportunity to remove his gin tumbler and bottle. "Sleep well, love," She went to take her leave but then paused at the door and turned to him. "Mr. Todd…?"

"What."

"You know the other day you…attempted to…"apologise"…?" She began awkwardly.

Mr. Todd looked up just a little too quickly and hurriedly adopted his usual 'mopey git' persona. "Before you accused me of…_watching _you," There was more than a little bitterness in his voice.

"Yes… well," Mrs. Lovett could feel a flush spreading across her cheeks. "I…" She gestured weakly with her free hand. "Sorryboutthat…" She blurted out and scurried out.

Mr. Todd watched her go with an alarmingly satisfied bubble rising in his chest. He shouldn't have cared whether she apologized or not; after all she was just Mrs. Lovett. But unfortunately the fact that she didn't think he was a pervert was oddly pleasing…but she still put way too much salt in her soup.

**--**

On Sunday Toby offered to fetch the things Mrs. Lovett wanted from the market. Mrs. Lovett was too relieved that she wouldn't have to venture out into the rain herself to question his motive and sent him off soon after ten with her list and basket.

Toby slunk through the crowds, dressed in the coat and trousers Mrs. Lovett had sewn for him from scraps, almost unnoticed by the bustling men and women with their umbrellas up and heads down. He pattered past the grim shops towards the string of market shops just around the corner from Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. He threaded his way towards the shabbiest shop on the street, its letters peeling away and its windows encrusted with grime. Barely legible words above it read _Miller's Apothecary _in what may have once been flourishing, gilded script. With a nervous glance over his shoulder he hurried into the gloom.

**--**

Mrs. Lovett was particularly careful as to how much salt she put into Mr. Todd's soup that Sunday evening. After tasting it, she had to congratulate herself on a bloody good soup. Too_ salty! _Bah!You couldn't get better if you went to a restaurant! She placed it on a tray along with a tumbler of gin and spoon and began towards the stairs.

"Mrs. Lovett!"

She turned at the stairs to find Toby half sprinting towards her. "Toby? What's the matter?"

"Can I take the food up to Mr. Todd?" He asked eagerly. "Please?"

Mrs. Lovett frowned at him. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"I…" He groped for an excuse. "Want to… be useful…" He finished lamely.

"That's really not necessary, dear-

"_Please_," He begged her. "I promise I won't spill it,"

"Well…" Mrs. Lovett glanced wistfully up the stairs; she had been quite looking forward to taking Mr. Todd his dinner… "Well…" She looked back at Toby, peering at her with wide, eager eyes. _Sigh…_ "Alright, love. You take it to Mr. Todd…"

"Thank you!" He burst out, grabbing the tray from her and hurrying up the stairs as quickly he could without slopping it all over the place.

Mrs. Lovett watched him go with raised eyebrows. He really was an odd, little boy sometimes…

Once alone in the upstairs hallway leading to Mr. Todd's shop Toby carefully placed the tray on the ground and felt for something in his pocket. He pulled out a little velvet pouch tied with a faded gold string and poured a little of the contents into his palm. The powder slid out into his palm loosely and easily. He had bought just enough for two or so doses. Carefully, he sprinkled it through the soup and stirred it, watching the powder disappear below the surface.

With a small, satisfied smile he picked up the tray and continued his way to Mr. Todd's barbershop. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," Came Mr. Todd's harsh voice.

Toby took a deep breath and entered.

_End of Chapter Six_


	7. Beneath The Blanket

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is a little more steamy than the past few but I tried to avoid making it too smutty. Mild language as usual and a bit more awkwardness. A brief Anthony appearance with no real point...and lots of lovely Sweenett goodness... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** **I only own the batty storyline I'm afraid.**

Beneath The Blanket

"Oh…it's you," Was how Mr. Todd greeted Toby as he tottered into the room, armed with the dinner tray.

Toby _had_ planned to act as naturally as possible on entering the barbershop but now that he was actually _in _Mr. Todd's room he found he was much too frightened to do anything more than scurry in, deposit the tray on the dresser and scurry out again, closing the door firmly behind him, glad to put some distance between him and the barber. He then made his way hurriedly back downstairs to implement part two of his plan.

Mrs. Lovett was standing in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, staring into space. She was dressed in one of her 'post-work' dresses for a change. A pale blue, tightly corseted bodice and corresponding overskirt decorated with rather faded, horizontal lace pleats. She didn't usually change out of her work dress but she had ripped yet another split in the skirt and had decided to discard it to her sowing pile and don something else that evening.

Toby sidled in behind her, knowing he had little time to put his plan into action.

"Marm?"

She jerked in surprise and turned quickly to him. "Oh! Lord! You gave me a fright, Toby! Don't creep up on me like that… Did you give Mr. Todd, is' dinner?"

The boy nodded hastily as she made her way to her chair as she always did. She eased herself into the chair and pushed her feet up onto her footstool, revealing worn leather boots and laddered pantyhose.

"If the business keeps going the way it's going I'll be able to afford meself sommore tights and things. Nice pair of slippers for the theatre… perhaps a pretty little gown for goin' somewhere nice…" She mused sleepily, laying back her head in the chair. "Oh, I'd love a nice, silk go-go-go-_gown_," She said through a yawn.

Toby watched her, only half listening to her gentle ramble. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked her suddenly.

She opened one eye. "Love, you wouldn't mind getting me something a wee bit stronger would you? Nice, bit o' gin wouldn't go amiss…"

He nodded and hurried to her liqueur cabinet for the last, remaining bottle of gin, pouring a good tumbler for her. He glanced over his shoulder, she had laid her head back again, her eyes were closed. As quickly as he could manage, Toby pulled out the powder again and sprinkled a pinch of it into her tumbler. Not as much as Mr. Todd's but a good dosage.

"Here you are," He said cheerfully, holding the gin out for her.

She smiled drowsily at him. "You're an angel," She sat up with trouble and drained the tumbler in one long swig.

Toby took the tumbler from her and took it back to the cabinet. Now all he had to do was wait…

--

Mr. Todd finished the soup and had to admit that it tasted a lot better than the last bowl Mrs. Lovett had sent up.

It had actually tasted of tomato this time and not just two tonnes of salt mixed with water. He drained the bowl and then gulped down the gin to quench his thirst.

Hopefully Mrs. Lovett would come up to fetch his bowl- WHAT?! What was he _saying_?! He didn't _want _her to come up to his shop… Certainly not… He glanced at the door. No… she wouldn't come up… It was almost ten; she would most likely be in bed by now or else fast asleep in her chair. That was probably why she had sent the boy up with his soup instead of doing it herself. Mr. Todd _had _to admit… he had felt a small twinge of what felt suspiciously like…_disappointment_ when the boy had appeared rather than Mrs. Lovett… What was wrong with him? He hadn't felt disappointment for many years… he had numbed himself from such sensations as disappointment and guilt for a very long time…and then _she _turned up, clawing into every nook and cranny of his life and all the painful realities of feeling came rushing back to him…

With a slight sigh he pushed his bowl and tumbler away and took to his feet. As usual he wasn't feeling even slightly drowsy and as usual he had nothing to do… Nothing to do but pace and brood and dwell… Like every other night, knowing just below Mrs. Lovett was sleeping peacefully. Once, the thought of her asleep had infuriated him. It had once made him want to purposely wake her with his heavy pacing so she wouldn't have the luxury that he was deprived of every night… But now, strangely. _Very_ strangely… the image of Mrs. Lovett asleep was a very odd comfort to him…

"God man… get a grip," He muttered, massaging his temples with his fingers as he began his usual course across the rough wood boards between the closed door and the darkened window. "She's… _Mrs. Lovett_…"

Mrs. Lovett, with her permanently crinkled and thoroughly ripped work dress (and total inability to sew). Mrs. Lovett with her un-brushed, auburn hair and incapacity to cook anything more advanced than tomato soup…(and even that could sometimes be only _just _edible). Mrs. Lovett who was nothing like his Lucy. So unlike his fair-haired, classically beautiful, gentle spirited, highly moral Lucy who would never wear her skirts so high or bodice so low as the coquettish Mrs. Lovett. Coquettish and… shapely Mrs. Lovett-

"Stop it," He commanded himself, as he reached the window and caught sight of his pale, harrowed face in the reflection. "Your wife is dead… you shouldn't be thinking like this…" _No one _should have been thinking like this…not about their landladies who for so long had been purveyors of annoyance and frustration in their lives.

Like her obvious dismissal of his masculinity. Why did that irritate him so? It shouldn't have…

"But it does," He said through gritted teeth, still staring at his reflection. "_She _irritates me…"

She got under his skin…with her knowing eyes and easy smirk and ability to make his blood boil with her blatant derision and Cockney drawl… He felt a twinge in his lower stomach followed by an alarmed swoop. This was _not _normal…he had never pictured her like he was before tonight…well not before the bath incident when he'd seen every curve, every arc, every line…

He gave a gasp, there it was again…that _twinge…_what was it? It was beginning to spread… Oh God… Who was he kidding…he was picturing Mrs. Lovett scantily dressed and he was bloody well enjoying it… What was _wrong _with him?!

--

"Ouch! Stupid, _bloody_ needle…" Mrs. Lovett hissed, sucking her pricked thumb. "Urgh…_sewing_…" She roughly stabbed the needlepoint through the material and roughly pulled it through again not caring that it snagged the fabric.  
She despised sowing…it was such a useless pastime. Who needed it these days, anyway? If a dress split, you bought another one… It was the way of the Victorian world…for the rich…

The needle kept catching under her skin and drawing blood and the constant moving of her arms under the heavy, stiff material of her dress was making her stuffy. Especially in the fire warmed area of the living room. It was odd though, because it usually took more than a little movement to make her uncomfortably hot.

"Toby?" She peered around for the boy and found he was gone. Probably to bed. Which was also unusual because he usually always said 'goodnight' to her before he turned in…

With a sigh she heaved herself up from her chair and wandered to the window, opening it a tiny crack and enjoying the breeze playing across her bare neck and chest. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Mr. Todd's fingertips drifting gently across her skin, his breath caressing the curve of her neck…

"Mr. Todd…" She whispered without opening her eyes.

"Mrs. Lovett..."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes flew open. Oh no…discovered…

She slowly turned to Mr. Todd, feeling too numb for embarrassment yet…

"Mr. Todd," She squeaked, realising how close he was to her. She could feel the heat from his body radiating against her chest… A wave of heat rushed across her… This was too much…He was too close and she felt too…drawn to him…

"Mmm" He growled with a smirk, leaning towards her. He was too close…much too close…

Mrs. Lovett leant against the window, trying to distance herself from the man who, in reality, she wanted to be with more than any other…

"What are you doing…" She asked weakly, feeling her ability to speak almost eclipsed by the hazy pleasure of having the man she so desired close to her.

Mr. Todd didn't reply, he leant closer to her, his eyes smouldering with something Mrs. Lovett had never seen there before…something different to hatred, bitterness and resentment.

"Don't…" She croaked, as his body pressed against hers and imprisoned her against the window.

"Don't?" He had his arms either side of her waist on the windowsill. The only way she could escape was to push him out of the way or dip out of his arms. The latter was likely to result in her face becoming level with his crotch… so she decided to attempt the former.

Placing both her hands on his chest, she pushed with all her might. He swung back slightly but managed to retain his grip on the windowsill. In retaliation he crushed her harder against the window, not caring about being rough. Mrs. Lovett didn't even feel the windowsill pressing painfully into her back. She could feel Mr. Todd's chest pressed so heavily against hers she almost couldn't breathe, she could feel Mr. Todd's legs pinning hers to the wall, she could feel his lips pressed against her neck… she could feel… WHAT WAS _THAT_?!

Her eyes snapped open. "Mr. _Todd_!" She burst out, trying to free herself from his clinch. "Are you daft? Are you drunk?"

"Mmm…does it matter?" He rumbled, smirking wantonly at her.

"Yes, it bloody well matters!" Mrs. Lovett said in a muffled voice from behind Mr. Todd. "Uh…don't… Mr…T…" He began trailing his lips down her neck. How often had she dreamt of it? Could she be dreaming now…?

"Mr. Todd…" She said quietly, as his lips fell lower down her neck. "…What's my name…?"

He moved back, so his dark eyes were on hers. "… Nellie…Lovett…" Fell from his lips before he fell on her skin with his mouth again.

So he knew her name…didn't mean it wasn't a dream… but…it did…feel really…

"Good God…" Mr. Todd suddenly growled, his hands had found their way to her waist. "What are you wearing under that dress… a chopping board…" He could feel the stiff whalebone corset below the material.

"It's a _corset_," Mrs. Lovett said irritably, struggling slightly in his strong grasp. "You…neanderthaaaaal!-

Mr. Todd had dug his fingers under her corset and with a firm movement had ripped the tightly laced bodice almost cleanly in two. Mrs. Lovett struggled fiercely against him; she could feel the bodice slipping away. She couldn't let it happen like this… she _couldn't_…

"Mr. Todd…" She whined, as he pulled away her corset. "Please…"

"I thought you wanted this," He whispered, letting her corset fall to the ground.

"I do…"

"And I want you…" He breathed into her ear, his lips just touching her skin.

"But you're drunk," She breathed.

He smirked at her. "With _one_ tumbler of gin? How feeble do you think I am?"

"Mr…" Mrs. Lovett let her head slip back. She couldn't fight it any longer…she had to give in…

Mr. Todd smirked at her submission. He was almost consumed with lust. A lust he had never felt before. Not even for Lucy. A lust that had spread over his body like wildfire, burning and aching over his chest, in his stomach…between his legs… He had never wanted anyone more desperately in his life…

He licked his lips and drew them across Mrs. Lovett's protruding collarbones, drawing from her a long, shaking gasp. He loved hearing that gasp. He had to proceed. He pushed himself harder against her, aware that she was almost crushed against the window. He forced her onto the windowsill, so her legs hung down while her body was against the glass. He pushed her skirts up and allowed himself one last look at her flushed, lustful face. Her eyes were hazy with desire; her lips dry with anticipation…

--

Toby had been hiding in the darkness of the hallway for almost an hour now, listening to the sounds resonating from the living room, a few feet away. He had seen Mr. Todd descend the stairs and disappear into the living room; he had heard the jumble of voices and thumps but hadn't dared to move any closer to the room, in fear of what he might see. He wasn't stupid after all. He knew what happened when adults got hot and steamy. When you had a woman like Mrs. Lovett in her busty dresses and a man like Mr. Todd with his last, lingering remnants of handsomeness it was inevitable that they would want to… converse. Toby had lived on the streets for some of his life and he had heard the smutty stories. The stories about drugs and potions that made people want to… converse…

Toby had never had parents. He'd been put in the workhouse almost as soon as he could walk and he hadn't seen his parents since. He couldn't even remember their faces. But he wanted parents. Proper parents who were there when he woke up in the morning and said 'goodnight' to him when he went to bed…Mrs. Lovett was a kind carer but she wasn't his _mother_…at least not until she was married. Not that Mr. Todd would be the perfect father. He was a frightening sort of man and he had a case of lethal looking knives that Toby tried to stay as far as he could from. But he seemed to be the only man who Mrs. Lovett had anything to do with… Who else would she marry? Who else would marry her? He was her only chance…

But adults, as adults often did, seemed to think that they knew better and Toby had been beginning to think Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd would _never_…converse… So a trip to the infamous _Miller's Apothecary _had been in order and after asking all the necessary questions and taking the necessary precautions (salt in the soup as a practice) he had spent his very little spending money on a rather expensive pouch of powder promised to make even the most stiffly upright people…converse… Then it had been the matter of slipping the powder into Mr. Todd's soup and Mrs. Lovett's gin and observing the results. The almost immediate results…

He could now hear a steady thumping sound against the window within the living room and blushed slightly in the darkness. It was time for bed… Even as he made his way quickly to his room he couldn't help congratulating himself. _Someone _had to take matters into their own hands and in this case it just so happened to be a twelve-year-old boy.

--

Mr. Todd woke up with his neck in considerable pain, it being jammed upright against the settee arm. He blinked blearily around him; sunshine was streaming in through the usually curtained window, assaulting his sleep heavy eyes. He tried to move and found that he was being pinned to the settee under the weight of something…or someone. He craned his neck and with a jolt of intense horror, saw the sleeping figure of Mrs. Lovett, a woollen blanket covering her from the waist down. She was pressed against him below the blanket and he then became aware of their mutual lack of clothing. _Oh…bugger…_

He tried to wrack his brain for the events of the previous night. He _must _have been drunk… There was no way he would have done this on his own accord… But he could remember most of the night's proceedings in alarming detail. He could remember Toby bringing him his soup, he could remember pacing his room, he could remember coming downstairs to find Mrs. Lovett half driven by lust… Urgh! How could that happen!? He didn't even _like _her! Let alone… doing _that _with her…

With a grunt he tried to shove her off his chest but she gave a resounding snuffle and buried her head into his chest.

"Argh! Get off!" He yelped, unnerved by the sensation of her lips on his bare skin. He bucked against her and she awoke abruptly, frowning against the sunshine.

"Whassgoinon," She mumbled, blinking blearily.

Mr. Todd gritted his teeth. He would _never_ hear the end of this.

"Mr. Todd?" She said uncertainly. "What are you…what are we…why am I…oh my Lord…"

She didn't even sound shocked, just resigned. As if she were too weary to muster the effort to be shocked by the fact she had woken up unclothed, on her settee with a homicidal barber beneath her.

"Do you mind getting off me?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"I'm not wearin' anything!" She protested.

"I don't care." He growled and then, realising that could purvey the wrong message, quickly added. "Can't you use a cushion or something?"

Mrs. Lovett sent him a withering look. She had a point. A cushion was going to do very little. Unless it was a cushion the size of a large dog…and even then the process of getting to her bedroom was going to be quite a quest…

"How am I going to get to my bedroom?" She whined, not daring to move far from Mr. Todd's chest for fear she'd bear all.

"Oh, for God's sake. I don't know." Mr. Todd snapped. "Sprint?"

"Mr. Todd!" She burst out crossly. "You are being a complete… _pig. _May I remind you that _you _woke up on _my _settee so would you please be a little more helpful?"

Mr. Todd glowered at her but didn't argue.

"Now," Mrs. Lovett said primly. Remarkably primly for a woman dressed only in a blanket. "What do you suggest we do?"

Mr. Todd shrugged sulkily. "I could run-

"What about if Toby sees you?" Mrs. Lovett demanded.

"…"

"You are useless!" Mrs. Lovett said shrilly. "You're being _deliberately_ obstructive."

"_Deliberately obstructive_!" Mr. Todd repeated disbelievingly. "What do you want me to do? Please enlighten me and I'll do it."

"Too late," Mrs. Lovett muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," She said airily, trying to move her head upright but fearing that the blanket would slip away. "Now. What _I_ suggest we do…is try and… sort of…roll off so the blanket doesn't come off,"

Mr. Todd savoured this idea. It wasn't appealing but what else could they do…?

"Alright…" He sighed.

"Ok…carefully now so the blanket doesn't slide off…" Mrs. Lovett muttered, manoeuvring her body into a better position to roll off the settee onto the floor. "Let's go,"

They rolled and landed heavily on the floor, Mr. Todd giving a pained '_Oof_!' as Mrs. Lovett landed on top of him.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Lovett asked.

"Oh…_smashing_," Mr. Todd replied in a muffled voice from beneath her.

"Ok. Well. How do we get up…" Mrs. Lovett said bluntly.

Mr. Todd attempted to look at her. "What do you mean? I thought you had a plan!"

"Yes…this was the plan…" Mrs. Lovett replied mildly.

"_WHAT_!"

"Well. I thought something might…click if we got this far…" She mumbled into his chest.

"What do you mean "this far"? We're on the floor in the exact position we were in _on _the settee except now we're _off _the settee and stuck here." He said crossly. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to you-

"Oh and _your _idea was _much _better," Mrs. Lovett retorted. "_Let's run through the house completely naked and not worry about the twelve-year-boy and passers by who might see us_," She purposely used a particularly high-pitched imitation of his voice to irritate him.

"I didn't say "we" I said "you"-

"You're being unhelpful!"

"You're being difficult!"

"Your _elbow_…is right in my rib cage…and would you _please _move your knee from there…" Mrs. Lovett said crossly, squirming under the blanket. "This is so humiliating…"

"It's about to get worse." Mr. Todd said hollowly, staring above him with wide eyes.

Mrs. Lovett glanced up and slowly shook her head in disbelief. This was _not _happening to her…

"I'll come back later, shall I?" Anthony's voice was several octaves higher than usual.

Mrs. Lovett didn't even know how long he'd been standing there…dirty pervert…

"GET OUT!" Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd roared in unison.

Anthony gave a squeak and bolted.

"The bloody brat must have let him in," Todd snarled, trying to blow Mrs. Lovett's hair out of his face and failing miserably.

"Don't call him that!" Mrs. Lovett snapped and then something struck her. "Of course! Toby!"

"I thought you didn't want to scar him with the image of two middle-aged murderers running naked through the house," Mr. Todd grumbled deliberately.

"We have a blanket on." Mrs. Lovett replied stubbornly. "Unless you want to wait here until he finds us anyway,"

"Fine!" Mr. Todd snapped. He was prepared to do almost anything to get out of this vastly uncomfortable position… Mrs. Lovett's knee was right in his-

"Toby!" Mrs. Lovett hollered, almost deafening Mr. Todd. "Toby!"

She craned her neck, listening for the sound of his footsteps. Thankfully or unthankfully moments later the boy appeared at the living room entrance, looking slightly nervous. He peered around, unable to see the couple behind the settee.

"Around here," Mrs. Lovett called.

Toby sidled around the settee and his eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"Playing cards," Mr. Todd replied irritably.

"Shut up. Toby, love. Would you possibly do us a favour? Would you move the coffee table so we can get to our feet?"

Toby obeyed, gripping the table and pulling it away from the entangled couple. Now that the table and the settee did not imprison them the two managed to (when they gripped their arms around each other's waists) struggle to their feet. Now, with the blanket covering both of them (only just) they shuffled out of the living room, very conscious of their ridiculous closeness. Mr. Todd's chin was shoved between Mrs. Lovett's ear and shoulder, his hands around her waist, his legs between hers. And they had to 'walk' like this all the way down the hall to Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. It was humiliating. Mr. Todd had never felt more like an idiot. He was donned in a multicoloured woollen blanket; shuffling along in the arms of his landlady for fear that the blanket would betray them and fall away. Mrs. Lovett kept treading on his feet and stumbling because she couldn't see where she was walking and Mr. Todd had to half waddle along to keep from trampling on her. Toby was gaping at them all the while from the living room doorway.

When they reached the bedroom Mrs. Lovett managed to open the door with her hip and they piled in. Mrs. Lovett wheeled around in search of her robe and spotted it on her bed. Waddling over to it, they managed to reach the bed and Mrs. Lovett struggled into her robe, her back to Mr. Todd, and fell out of the blanket in utter relief.

"Oh, thank God," She mumbled, tying her robe up.

"I agree," Mr. Todd muttered, still clutching the blanket around his waist like a strange, multi-coloured loincloth.

Mrs. Lovett fell onto the bed in exhaustion, no longer caring about having a man in her bedroom. Her reputation was as good as ruined so there was no use pretending she was respectable any longer.

"Mr. Todd." She croaked at length.

"What." He was at the door.

"Take that blanket to the laundry when you're finished with it…"

_End of Chapter Seven_


	8. Storm

**Author's Notes:** --Gasp!-- They SLEPT together! How simply scandalous! XD Anyways. This chapter is sort of the aftermath... the thoughts of the said couple and such... Now... I remember somewhere in the past chapters... _Potatoes_ I think it was, I promised you another drunken scene:

_"Temper, Mrs. Lovett," He said smugly. "I've decided what I want from you,"_

_"What," Mrs. Lovett said unenthusiastically._

_He smirked at her. "A rematch,"_

_She stared at him, still leaning heavily on her arm. "What."_

_"Another drinking match," He clarified._

And it is coming up very soon in the near future. I do so love my drunken scenes XD Until then, enjoy. I love reviewers!! Gosh you're super. Keep it up, because you really are fabulous XD

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

Storm

Strangely, the fact that she had slept with Mr. Todd didn't hit Mrs. Lovett until she woke up three hours later still lying on her bed, wearing only her robe. After the initial wave of horror at the fact she hadn't opened the shop all day and the meat would go bad it suddenly hit her like a sixty kilo corpse: she had _slept _with Mr. Todd! She. Had. SLEPT. With. Mr. Todd. Mr. _Sweeney _Todd. The man she had been in love with for most of her life. The man she had dreamt of for fifteen years, fantasised about for fifteen years, yearned to be with for fifteen years. She almost couldn't believe it had happened. She was stunned. How _had_ it happened? Had they been drunk? Surely _he _must have been drunk… She knew she hadn't. She had only had one tumbler of gin all day. But she _had_ felt…funny. Odd. Different. Possessed by the heated passion she had successfully smothered for all the time Mr. Todd had been living with her. Last night it had broken free of its bonds.

She had felt lust in the past but never as powerfully consuming as she had last night. She knew that there was no way would have been able to keep herself from submitting to Mr. Todd. He had been seducing her; she had been almost mindless with desire. How could she have stopped herself? It hadn't been _her_ fault. _She _hadn't been the one pressing Mr. Todd against the windowsill, thrusting her crotch against him, attacking his neck with her lips…

He certainly hadn't been tender or gentle. He'd been dominant and forceful. Part of her even believed that if she had refused him he would have been likely to have ravished her, his arousal was such. What could have caused that? She felt she had to return to her 'he was drunk' theory. He must have swiped a bottle of gin from her liqueur cabinet…but there had only been one bottle left and she certainly would have noticed if that had gone missing. It was a mystery…

--

Mr. Todd had made his way up to his barbershop and ended up curling up in his barber chair and falling asleep without bothering to get dressed. He was too bleary and tired to do anything else. When he woke up a little while later he was still crammed in the chair, the blanket wrapped around his knees. He hurriedly tugged it up and searched for a pair of trousers. When he was decent he took the blanket down to the laundry like Mrs. Lovett had asked him to and dumped it on Mrs. Lovett's washing pile.

Then he hesitated, wondering whether Mrs. Lovett would have time to do all the washing when she had so many other things to do. Finally, with a sigh, he rolled up his shirtsleeves and began to fill the wooden bucket with water. He didn't know why he was doing it but he had felt a sudden streak of generosity. After all, she washed his clothes day in and day out without a word of complaint. In fact she _never _complained about anything. Not about work, not about Mr. Todd, not about having to do double the amount of chores she had to do when she had lived alone. Sometimes she amazed him…Not in some stupid, sentimental way…just her ability to multitask to perfection. Do everything it seemed while all he did was slit the throats.

With a sudden jolt, he abruptly realised what the last night's proceedings meant… He had slept with her… Something he had sworn he would never do. In one night of steam he had broken all the rules he'd set himself. Chiefly the rule that he would _never_ touch another woman as long as he lived, not after Lucy's death. Well, that was out the window… His willpower had lasted…hmm…a few months? What a weak willed slime ball he was…

He finished filling the washing tub with water and dumped the pile of washing into the soapy depths. Dunking his hands into the water, he began to scrub the clothes in the fashion Mrs. Lovett had shown him many weeks before. He also remembered, with a furious blush, what else had happened that day in the laundry. Just the thought of his stupidity made him close his eyes in pained mortification. Why did he do those things? Probably he was still getting adjusted to society again…

He continued his washing, pushing his sleeves up a little further as the water licked at them. Soon his shirt and the front of his trousers were soaked from his amateurish washing skills but he certainly wasn't going to be lulled into a state of false security. He knew the moment he removed his shirt Mrs. Lovett would come bustling through the door, she had a habit of walking in on him at random moments when he wasn't expecting it. But it wasn't happening _this _time… Not that he thought she'd be actively seeking him out this morning. She would probably be as bashful as him about the whole…windowsill incident. If it was even possible for Mrs. Lovett to be bashful… She seemed fairly shameless. And this shameless woman, this flirtatious, unrespectable woman was the only woman apart from Lucy he had slept with. It sent a strange shiver down his spine, not out of disgust exactly. Just…he didn't know what.

"Well, it has to stop now," He told himself sternly, as he scrubbed at a bloodstain on one of his shirts. "She's your landlady, not your bloomin' mistress-

"Excellent advice, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett said mildly, bustling past him with more washing in her arms.

"Argh!" Mr. Todd yelped, throwing himself against the tub in alarm.

"Settle petal," Mrs. Lovett said amusedly, as Mr. Todd gaped at her wide-eyed. "What have you been doing? Having a swim?" She was staring at his sodden front.

"I was giving you a hand _actually_," He replied stiffly. "I was trying to be helpful,"

"Key word 'trying'," Mrs. Lovett smirked, dropping the small pile of washing in the soapy water.

"Fine," Mr. Todd sniffed, drying his hands on his shirt. "See if I ever help you again,"

He went to stomp out but Mrs. Lovett laid a hand on his arm with a light laugh. "I was teasing, dear. Your help is much appreciated,"

Mr. Todd shrugged gruffly and returned to the washing, avoiding Mrs. Lovett's eye.

After a few, torturous moments of silence, Mrs. Lovett spoke:

"I can finish that if you want to tend to a few customers before it gets too late. I could use a bit more meat for tomorrow's pies." She said placidly, leaning against the bathtub, observing Mr. Todd.

Mr. Todd nodded vaguely in reply, not seeming to hear her because he continued scrubbing the clothes. Mrs. Lovett frowned bemusedly at him for a little while longer and then cleared her throat pointedly.

"Mr. T? She remarked.

He didn't stir but continued washing in pensive silence.

"Helloooo? Earth to Mr. blinking Todd…" She said loudly.

Mr. Todd blinked and shook his head slightly before turning to her. "What?' He said blankly.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "You can go now. I need meat for the pies, love. Or we'll be set back two day's profit instead of one,"

"Oh. Oh right," He mumbled, drying his hands hurriedly on his trousers.

Mrs. Lovett rolled up her own sleeves and took his place at the laundry tub. Before she put her hands in the water she hesitated, turning back to Mr. Todd as he was opening the laundry door to take his leave.

"Mr. Todd?"

"Yes?" He turned his head to her.

"…How was last night for you?" She enquired tentatively.

"…"

"I'm serious. What was it like?"

"…"

"Don't give me that look! I'm asking you a serious question."

"I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer…"

"Oh, you boring, stiff old dishcloth…"

"I am _not _boring-

"Ha, wanna bet?"

"And I am _not _stiff."

"Thanks to me…"

"Yes thanks to- SHUT UP!"

"Make me…"

"You child,"

"You old woman,"

Mr. Todd finally rolled his eyes and left, annoyingly without answering Mrs. Lovett's question. She had been genuinely interested in his reply. But prudish Mr. Todd seemed to be intent on acting like they were still merely accomplishes. But they weren't merely accomplices anymore. Because she had seen his _bellybutton _now. That made them more than accomplices. It was a rule…somewhere…

--

Toby was very displeased to note that neither Mrs. Lovett nor Mr. Todd seemed to be anymore married than they had been two days prior. He had been certain that the aphrodisiac would have resulted in marriage. After all weren't people supposed to get married when they bonked? Hmph. It didn't make sense to him.

In fact, they seemed less inclined to be married than every before. They seemed embarrassed around each other. Mr. Todd would turn bright red every time he came face to face with Mrs. Lovett and Mrs. Lovett would pat her hair nervously. What was more Mrs. Lovett seemed to be distracted these days, always muttering to herself, frowning at her liqueur cabinet as though she was trying to remember something or piece something together in her mind or at the window where the…conversing had been done. She seemed vaguely unsettled, dreamier and more distant than he'd ever seen her. And they _still _weren't bloody married! What did he have to do to get them down the aisle?

He certainly wasn't going to give up. If he had to play cupid a little longer then he would. He wasn't a push over. He wanted parents and he was going to get them… After all…there was still a little powder left…

--

A week after the windowsill incident there was a horrific storm over London. It was the middle of summer, a particularly dry, muggy summer and after a blistering hot day the storm clouds had set in, growling ominously over the rooftops of apprehensive Londoners.

Mr. Todd stood at his window, watching as a flash of lighting snapped across the sky, lighting the interior of his shop for half a second before throwing him back into darkness. He enjoyed watching storms, they seemed to him violent and uncontrollable things, things that reminded him that even nature had a streak of vengeance in it.

But the problem with storms was that the upper floor roof had a lot of holes in it and one right above his bed. That made sleeping vastly unenjoyable and as he already found sleeping near impossible he choose to sleep downstairs on Mrs. Lovett's settee in these instances. Usually it wasn't too bad, he'd sneak down when she'd already turned in and come back up before she'd woken in the morning but tonight he was particularly anxious not to encounter her. He was still feeling uneasy over the windowsill incident and coming face to face with Mrs. Lovett seemed to draw from him an involuntary flush. But he didn't want her to think he cared…so inconvenient…

But he supposed he'd have to suck it up and get it over and done with. After all, she was just a woman. He'd dealt with worse. Who cared what she thought? He'd just act natural. Go downstairs, act natural and avoid talking too much. Then, it would all be downhill from there.

Making up his mind, he left the window, crossed the shop and began his way down to Mrs. Lovett's home. It was very dark downstairs; he wondered whether Mrs. Lovett had already gone to bed.

Unfortunately, he found her in the living room in her usual chair, a candle on the coffee table and the dying remains of a fire in the grate. She was dozing, her head to one side. Mr. Todd shuffled in and took a seat at the settee, not feeling particularly tired. Soon after, Toby came in and on seeing Mr. Todd bowed his head slightly with a look of badly disguised alarm on his young face. Mr. Todd never ceased to startle him. His almost ghostly complexion, his tangled salt and pepper hair (which by now had almost completely grown back even more untamed than before), his harrowed face, so sunken and unsettled by years of hardship, they all made him a most frightening person. Especially to Toby, despite his being told repeatedly by Mrs. Lovett about Mr. Todd being their protector. Toby still didn't completely trust him and Mr. Todd was _never _friendly to Toby, which made him even harder to like.

"Fetch me a tumbler of gin, boy," Mr. Todd said quietly. He didn't _not_ like Toby, he found him irritating and often underfoot when he didn't want him there but he didn't dislike him. He was only a lad after all. Simple and unpretentious.

"Yes, Mr. Todd," Toby replied placidly, fingering the bag of powder he had taken to carrying around with him everywhere in his pocket. He had been waiting for another opportunity and Mr. Todd had just handed it to him on a silver platter. "Marm? Do you want some gin?"

Mrs. Lovett didn't stir.

"Marm?" Toby repeated a little louder, she had to wake up so he could feed her the powder… it was no good if only Mr. Todd was drugged.

She moved her head slightly.

"Marm? Do you want some gin?" He said loudly. Mr. Todd was frowning at him questioningly.

"MARM?"

Mrs. Lovett jerked awake and bolted upright. "Whassgoinon! Where are my potatoes! Who's got my potatoes?"

Mr. Todd cocked an eyebrow at her as she shook her drowsy head.

"Would you like some gin?" Toby asked her hopefully.

She stared at him. "You woke me up for that?"

"Yes. Well…I just thought that…" Toby trailed off weakly.

"Fine. Might as well now I'm awake an' all," Mrs. Lovett grumbled, lying back down contentedly in her chair.

Toby hurried to the liqueur cabinet to fetch the gin. Meanwhile Mrs. Lovett had noticed Mr. Todd skulking on the settee.

"Oh! What are you doing down here?" She asked him.

A roll of thunder suddenly rumbled deeply over the house and Mrs. Lovett jumped slightly. "Oh goodness. I didn't realise that was about. We really must get those holes fixed in the roof…" Privately she had no intention of getting the holes fixed, not if it meant she could have Mr. Todd in her living room for the night.

Toby finished pouring the gin and spiking them with the aphrodisiac and handed them to Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett, uncertain of whether he should escape now and avoid seeing the results so close at hand. Mrs. Lovett sipped her gin; Mr. Todd swigged his in one long gulp. Which really was unfortunate, Toby thought, because men as a rule felt the effects quicker than women…

"I might go to bed," Mrs. Lovett yawned, putting her empty tumbler on the table.

"NO!" Toby yelped.

Mrs. Lovett stared at him. "Um. May I ask why not?"

"Because…because…" He gestured vaguely. "Because…there's a rat in the broom closet!" He suddenly had a brainwave. One that would ensure they couldn't escape.

Mrs. Lovett gave a sharp intake of breath. If there was one thing she couldn't _stand _it was rodents.

"Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me earlier, you silly boy? They could be half way through my brooms by now!" She said crossly, getting to her feet.

"Rats don't eat brooms," Mr. Todd remarked.

"How am I going to get it out?" Mrs. Lovett demanded of no one in particular. "I can't have that thing living in my house!"

"You kill it," Mr. Todd supplied helpfully.

Mrs. Lovett glared at him. "_I'm _not going near it. I can't stand the dirty things."

Mr. Todd rolled his eyes. _This _from the woman who had allowed her kitchen to become overrun with insects when he first encountered her a few months prior. "Well. What are you going to do then?"

Mrs. Lovett looked at him. "Well…maybe…you…could…" She batted her eyes. "Please?"

Mr. Todd sighed. It never ended. "Fine. But you come with me and hold the candle so I don't trip over the thing and break my neck,"

"Fine," She took the candle from the table and nodded to him. "What are you going to kill it with?"

"I'll work that out when we get there," He mumbled, getting heavily to his feet.

Toby watched them slink out of the living room into the hallway where the broom closet was in search of the so-called 'rat'. So gullible… After a few moments of inward gloating he followed them. They had reached the broom closet; Mr. Todd nudged the door open with his foot while Mrs. Lovett held the candle out to supply him with light.

"Can you see it?" She whispered.

"Why are you whispering?"

"I don't know," She whispered.

"Well stop it. You're tickling my neck,"

"Ok. Sorry," She whispered.

They edged into the closet, Mrs. Lovett so close to Mr. Todd she was practically on top of him and Mr. Todd peering through the darkness for the supposed rat. He took a hammer off the shelf as his weapon and they moved a little deeper into the closet, it wasn't big but it could have comfortably held four or five people. Not that four or five people would _want_ to be in a dusty broom closet full of cobwebs and…brooms.

They were almost at the opposite wall when Toby snuck to the entrance and laid a hand on the doorknob, watching the couple scan the broom closet with the candle.

"Toby…where was this rat when you saw it?" Mrs. Lovett asked him suddenly, turning to him. "…What are you doing…"

Toby sent her an apologetic look and slammed the door shut, locking it firmly with the key that was always in the keyhole. It scraped with a satisfying 'click' and the two became prisoners in the broom closet…and then all hell broke lose.

"TOBY! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR _NOW_! I SWEAR I WILL SMACK YOU INTO NEXT YEAR!'

"Forget smacking, I'll bloody kill you boy. Open this door. You hear me?"

"TOBY!"

"I'm sorry. You'll forgive me when you're married!" Toby yelled and scarpered away down the hall.

"TOBY!" They screamed through the door. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

He had gone. They were locked in the closet. And they were pumped full of aphrodisiacal powder.

_End of Chapter Eight_


	9. In The Closet

**Author's Notes:** I almost suceeded in writing an entire chapter set in a closet XD Anyways. I know this took like three million years to finish but I had to do all these blasted QCS exams and seeing as it does affect my future...bla bla bla... etc etc, I thought I'd better postpone this chapter slightly...

**Now. This chapter IS a little more mature than the last few chapters but only by a smidgen. The 'S' word _is_ mentioned... No not 'Synchronised Swimming' the OTHER 'S' word... Yes that one.** **I wasn't completely sure whether to bump up the rating but after consulting with Alice I've decided to leave it as 'T' rating but warn you that it is borderline M.**

**Enjoy ;)**

**Disclaimer: Own closet. Don't own contents of closet...**

In The Closet

"I swear, Mr. Todd. If you don't stop pacing…I'm going to _break _your legs," Mrs. Lovett said through gritted teeth as she sat on an upturned bucket watching the barber stride the two or so metres from one side of the closet to the other.

Mr. Todd ignored her. He was furious with her. As far as he was concerned it was her boy that had caused all the trouble so she was more than slightly responsible. He continued his pacing, his head down to avoid Mrs. Lovett's eye.

She had placed the candle on one of the higher shelves to give them some light but it was dying. Mr. Todd was not looking forward to when it did eventually go out and left them in total darkness. All they could do was wait and wait and wait for daylight to come. And even then, he wasn't sure whether Toby would release them. He had no idea why the stupid boy had locked them in the broom closet. What could possibly be his motive? Maybe he intended to keep them there as his prisoners… Mr. Todd actually would have believed that possible if it wasn't for the fact that Toby had a fondness for Mrs. Lovett and thus seemed unlikely to lock her in a cupboard with the man he was so apprehensive of.

"Mr. T. _Please _sit down. You're makin' me nervous." Mrs. Lovett said tiredly, laying her head in her hands.

Mr. Todd continued his erratic pace back and forth, not taking any notice of Mrs. Lovett. He didn't like being trapped in this closet… He felt suffocated, claustrophobic in this tiny, enclosed area with no one but Mrs. Lovett to keep him company and the candle burning lower and lower in its holder.

"Can't imagine why he'd do such a thing…" Mrs. Lovett muttered, still gazing dully at the floor.

Mr. Todd stopped his pacing for a moment and rounded on her. "We should have killed the brat when we had the chance,"

"You would kill a child?" Mrs. Lovett asked him coldly, lifting her eyes to look at his face.

Mr. Todd kept a nonchalant countenance, not allowing any flicker of conscience to betray him. He had perfected that look, that look of icy indifference in the face of meaningless murder.

"I do what I must," He replied calmly, returning to his steady pace. "I don't have a choice."

Mrs. Lovett followed him with her eyes. "You would kill an innocent child who hasn't even had a chance to see the ocean?"

"I do what I must," Mr. Todd repeated softly, not ceasing his pacing.

"A boy who as' been thrown about all his life from workhouse to cruel master to cruel master?" Mrs. Lovett pressed fiercely.

"I do what I must," Mr. Todd said through gritted teeth, the blood was pounding very loudly in his ears, he could feel the old anger beginning to spark…

"A boy who as' known nothing but pain and suffering all is' life-

"I DO WHAT I MUST," Mr. Todd roared at her, whirling abruptly to face her.

Mrs. Lovett stared stonily back at him, unmoved by his fury. His usually washed out face had a slight flush to it, his eyes narrowed.

"You don't _have_ to do anything," She said quietly, still holding his gaze even though his eyes were almost burning into her skull.

"You don't understand," He snapped. "You have no idea what I went through."

"So your suffering justifies slaughtering an innocent boy?" She retorted.

"No person is innocent," He snarled, taking a step closer to her. "I thought you of all people understood that."

"No man should play God with a child's life," Mrs. Lovett snapped, standing up roughly.

She was a good head shorter than him, her nose only just level with his collarbones but she moved her chin up to keep her eyes on his. There was barely an inch between them.

"I don't need you to understand," He growled, his eyes flashing. "You're the accomplice."

"The accomplice who has to put up with your constant sulking and brooding and complaining." Mrs. Lovett burst out hotly. "The accomplice who has to cook your dinner, wash your laundry, clean your rooms, change your bedding, put up with your bleeding _insecurities_." Every little annoyance she'd ever swallowed was pouring out. She couldn't help it. His constant reminders that she wasn't anything to him made her blood boil.

"I never asked you- Mr. Todd piped up.

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO," Mrs. Lovett bellowed, almost paralysed with fury. "I _have_ to do it. Because you know what would happen if I didn't?" She lowered her voice to a furious hiss. "You'd waste away! You're so bloody wrapped up in your _effing_ murder rampage you can't _effing _feed yourself!" Mr. Todd was staring at her, wide eyed and with his mouth hanging open slightly.

"And you go on and on and on," Mrs. Lovett ranted doggedly. "About your wife and your daughter and the judge and the beadle and OH MY GOD I'm so sick of it!" She let out an angry huff. "You-you-you _self absorbed wan-_

Mrs. Lovett never finished her sentence. Mr. Todd had half dived at her and for a terrifying moment she had thought he was going to attack her. She was partly right. She toppled backwards over the bucket she had been sitting on a few moments earlier and found herself being accosted by Mr. Todd's lips on her face and neck. He was even more violent than before and restrained her quite painfully with his arms while attacking her neck with what felt more like his teeth than his lips. Mrs. Lovett was wedged in behind the bucket; in considerable pain with Mr. Todd molesting her like a sailor. She tried to speak and succeeded only in getting a mouthful of hair.

Mr. Todd was burning with anger but his lust was burning even hotter. Mrs. Lovett's fury at him, her angry rant had almost made him almost wild with desire. He didn't know why but her anger was strangely arousing. As she squirmed below him, he held her firmly, not allowing her to break his strong grasp. He could see the alarm flickering across her face but he could also see -faintly- the ever-present yearning in her hazy eyes. She was as aroused as he was even if she was struggling like a sixteen-year-old virgin.

"Mr. Todd," She managed to gasp as he continued his assault. "…I'm stuck,"

Mr. Todd slowly stumbled to his feet. It was true. She was wedged behind the clutter, with her feet sticking awkwardly upward. She looked more than slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh." Mr. Todd said hoarsely. "Right."

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Mrs. Lovett snapped, trying to look threatening while being stuck in a ridiculously suggestive position. "You…_debaucher_."

Mr. Todd straightened his wrinkled shirt and threw his hair back. He was still absurdly aroused but he couldn't bring himself to have Mrs. Lovett when she was trapped. It was one thing to force himself onto her when she was at least able to react bodily but to ravish her helplessly was entirely another.

"Can't you get out?" He asked her lamely.

"No." She replied flatly.

"Well. What do you want me to do?"

"Pull me out, of course!" She snapped.

"Oh-Oh right," He stammered, rushing forward and clutching onto her wrists. He gave her a sharp pull and she didn't budge. "…I can't get you out,"

Mrs. Lovett glowered at him. "So. You're just going to leave me in here, are you? Try again!"

Mr. Todd grabbed onto her wrists again and pulled and again she didn't budge. "It's not working…"

"Alright. Look. Stand over me, grab me around the waist and lift me up." Mrs. Lovett said impatiently, despairing of his incompetence. "Now!"

Mr. Todd stumbled to follow her directions, he spread his legs either side of her and bent down to clutch her waist.

"Hurry the hell up!" Mrs. Lovett snapped. She was in serious pain wedged between the stonewall and the clutter of buckets, empty boxes and other dusty, inert objects.

Mr. Todd dragged her up and Mrs. Lovett kicked desperately to escape. Mr. Todd managed to haul her up and with her legs around his waist, lifted her from her enclosure.

"Thank you," Mrs. Lovett said, sounding a little breathless as she sat, hitched up on Mr. Todd's thighs.

He hadn't released her from his grip. His hands were firmly around her waist; her legs were hooked securely around his hips. And neither of them was yielding. Mrs. Lovett considered asking him to put her down but she had to admit she was enjoying being hitched up on his front a little too much. She was aware that her skirt was pushed up high enough to show off her underclothes and she was aware that Mr. Todd was feeling a little…'tense' below the belt but it didn't seem to be registering. She was too enjoying her position and her closeness to Mr. Todd.

Mr. Todd wanted to have Mrs. Lovett more than anything else in the world at this moment. She was positioned on his thighs like a whore and he wanted to have her. But this incredible desire unlocked an even more incredible anger. Anger at the fact that he had lowered himself to bedding unrespectable women while his wife's remains rotted somewhere. But the anger did not eclipse his lust.

"Maybe…we should…" Mrs. Lovett hesitated. How did you say 'shag' without sounding like a slapper? "Converse?" She breathed into his ear.

Mr. Todd gave a small groan of agreement and the next moment Mrs. Lovett found herself shoved against the locked door with her legs still hooked around Mr. Todd's waist. Her head was back as his mouth found its way to her neck again. Mrs. Lovett trailed her fingers to his shirt buttons, ripping them out one by one and not caring whether she ripped one off completely. Mr. Todd had pushed her skirts up now and was working at her bloomers, trying to remove them clumsily with one hand and keep her aloft with the other. She was sliding down the door but she didn't open her eyes or move her head forward. Mr. Todd abandoned her bloomers and pushed her up roughly again to keep her on his thighs. With her securely placed, he returned his hand to removing her underclothes-

At that moment the candle went out.

"Oh shit."

--

The morning found two very dishevelled, very bruised and very sexually unfulfilled murderers sitting in Mrs. Lovett's broom closet. The sudden darkness had proved to be quite a mood killer. Especially since Mr. Todd had promptly dropped Mrs. Lovett, causing her to bite her tongue as she plummeted to the floor and then kick him in retaliation.

The two companions had then spent the remainder of the night sitting on opposite sides of the cupboard, one nursing her swollen tongue and the other his bruised shin. Mrs. Lovett had eventually fallen asleep slumped in the corner and Mr. Todd sitting upright with his back pressed against a plank of wood. He was by no means satisfied but Mrs. Lovett kicking him in the shin had been a dent to his libido.

Morning had finally come and Mr. Todd had woken blearily, first becoming aware of the stiff pains in his back from falling asleep upright and then Mrs. Lovett in the opposite corner, her head slumped on her shoulder as she slept. It took him a few wild seconds of blinking and rubbing his eyes to remember where he was. Then it all came flooding back: Toby locking them in the closet, Mrs. Lovett getting stuck behind the bucket and the following proceedings which still brought a flush to his cheek even now. But they hadn't shagged… Mr. Todd felt a small pang of what he initially thought was relief but abruptly realised was…_disappointment_… Disappointment at _not _shagging Mrs. Lovett… Was he going daft?! Surely once was enough… But the disappointment didn't go away. In fact as he dwelt more on the night's proceedings he began to feel more and more irked by the fact that he hadn't had the initiative to just _have_ her when she was wrapped around his thighs. Then he had to give himself a mental shake. What was he _thinking_??? He was _not _attracted to Mrs. Lovett… Even if he couldn't he stop picturing her on his hips, her skirts pushed up high enough for him to glance her lace bloomers, her face flushed, her hair tumbling messily over her eyes as she clutched him between her thighs-

"Urgh God," He lurched, clutching at his front. He had to stop thinking about that…it was much too early to be thinking about that…

Suddenly there was a scrape in the keyhole and Mr. Todd's eyes snapped to the door. He scrambled to his feet as a familiar head tentatively peeked around the door.

"Toby…" Mr. Todd rumbled.

The boy gave a squeak and tried to escape but Mr. Todd was too quick for him and in a few fluid movements had successfully restrained the boy around the waist despite his thrashing and struggling.

"Gedoff!" Toby yelped, flailing his arms around.

Mr. Todd gave a manic, humourless laugh. "Oh, no no! You don't get away with locking us in the cupboard for the night…"

"Marm!" Screeched the boy. "Marm!"

"You really want to wake her up? Because she is just about ready to put you in the workhouse again you little brat…" Mr. Todd growled, roughly pulling the boy up and half dragging him down the hallway to the staircase. "You just wait…when I finish with you, you won't be able to sit down for a week."

But Toby had no intention of being beaten by Mr. Todd and he achieved this intention by, at this moment, bringing his heel directly into Mr. Todd's crotch. Hard.

--

"It really, really hurts," Mr. Todd whined as Mrs. Lovett tended him on her settee a few minutes later.

She had been woken by a bellowing scream of pain and had rushed out of the broom closet to find Mr. Todd doubled over in pain in the hallway, tears of agony in his eyes. So she had taken him to the settee, sat him down and proceeded to fill a hot water bottle for him to apply to his…eh 'wound'…

"Yes I know it really, really hurts." Mrs. Lovett replied patiently as she screwed the brass top back onto the hot water bottle. "Hold on a tic will ye',"

Mr. Todd gave a whimper, his hand still shoved ridiculously between his legs. After kicking him Toby had scarpered in terror of Mr. Todd's wrath to the safety of an upstairs, disused bedroom. But he hadn't seen _anything _yet… Wait until Mr. Todd got his hands on him after this…

"Here you are, love," Mrs. Lovett said brightly, handing Mr. Todd the hot water bottle. Mr. Todd took it and, embarrassedly, placed it between his legs.

"Thanks," He grunted.

"You're welcome," Mrs. Lovett said primly, taking a seat in her usual chair. "Keep it there for a little while and it should be alright in a moment,"

"Ok," He mumbled, feeling stupid.

"If it starts getting cold, I can fill it up again," Mrs. Lovett went on cheerfully.

"Ok," He wished she'd shut up…

"And if-

"_Ok_." Mr. Todd snapped at her. "Would you stop talking for once in your life."

Mrs. Lovett sniffed. "Fine. I was only trying to be helpful,"

Mr. Todd glowered at her. She was _always _trying to be helpful…

"Where is Toby anyway?" She asked interestedly, peering about.

"I don't know. But when I find out I'm going to…to…" Mr. Todd couldn't think of an action worse enough to punish the boy's actions.

"Oh, don't be silly." Mrs. Lovett said dismissively. "I'm sure he didn't mean to."

"_Didn't mean to?!_" Mr. Todd repeated in furious disbelief. "He aimed his bloody foot for my-

"He's just a boy! And besides I suppose you were being awfully rough with him…" Mrs. Lovett said regretfully. "I wish you'd be kinder to him,"

"He _kicked _me in the crotch!" Mr. Todd burst out, outraged.

"By _accident_," Mrs. Lovett said matter-of-factly. "You just need to learn to keep your temper. And besides it wasn't that bad in the cupboard, was it?"

Mr. Todd was transfixed by the absurdity of this sentiment. "You kicked me in the shin!"

"Because you dropped me." Mrs. Lovett retorted.

"The candle went out," Mr. Todd said sourly.

"And it's _impossible_ to have sex in the dark," Mrs. Lovett said bitterly.

Mr. Todd stared at her, stunned by her ease at using such words as…se…se…se..._that _word. They hadn't spoken openly about their windowsill 'fraternization' since it had happened and the fact that they had nearly done it again last night unnerved Mr. Todd. But apparently Mrs. Lovett was unfazed by it all…

"We. Are. Not. Supposed. To. Have…_that_," He hissed through gritted teeth. "We are _accomplices_,"

"As you keep saying," Mrs. Lovett said bluntly. "Doesn't stop you from slamming me against the door and nearly wearing my stockings through with your pelvis-

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Mr. Todd burst out, blocking his ears. "I'm not listening."

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "You are a child."

_End Of Chapter Nine_


	10. Toby Confesses

**Author's Notes:** Rawr. Mr. Todd is such a hunk a' man XD Neways...

The inspiration for the whole 'aphrodisiac' theme was the song **Aphrodisiac **By **Bow Wow Wow**. Funnily enough... it's about an aphrodisiac! I strongly suggest you check it out XD

_If you want to ... fall in love with somebody, somebody that you're not in love with at all... take an a-a-a-a-phrodisiac..._

--Bops--

**Disclaimer:** **Never have. Never will. Neverland. XD**

**Note: There could be a bit of a wait on the next chappy because I'm approaching my end of term exams and I have ALOT of school work to attend to. Therefore I'm hoping I'll have the next one done and up HOPEFULLY by next monday (22nd). Thank you muchly for your reading and reviewing, I love you all XD**

Toby's Confession

Mrs. Lovett slipped away when Mr. Todd fell asleep, the hot water bottle still between his legs. Mrs. Lovett wanted to find Toby before Mr. Todd did. Although she did think that once he woke up and she had supplied him with a tumbler of gin mixed with a couple of sleeping pills he'd loosen up and be less inclined to try and kill Toby with his bare hands. She knew that Toby kicking Mr. Todd was unlikely to have been an accident but she wasn't going to admit that to Mr. Todd if it gave him further pretence to beat the boy to death.

She crept up the stairs, treading as softly as she could on the tender floorboards.

"Toby?" She whispered as she crept along the gloomy hallway. "Toby?"

There was no reply but she didn't dare to raise her voice. She padded down the hallway, listening intently for any telltale sounds. As she approached the second door down the hallway she noticed it was slightly ajar. Cocking an eyebrow at Toby's clumsy hiding attempt, she creaked it open and was unsurprised to be almost immediately accosted by a small, mousy haired figure brandishing a hat stand.

"En Garde! You scoundrel!" He yelped, prodding her with the hat stand. It bounced harmlessly off Mrs. Lovett's thick bodice and nearly caused the boy to go shooting backwards before he managed to keep his balance on the tips of his toes.

"Toby. What are you doing?" Mrs. Lovett said irritably, not appreciating being jabbed with a hatstand.

Toby peered at her, realising who it was before blushing slightly. "I-I thought…"

"I was Mr. Todd." Mrs. Lovett interjected. "And you were planning to take Mr. Todd on…with a hat stand…"

"Yeah. I could take him with or without a hat stand." Toby said staunchly, shoving his chin upward.

"Of course you could, love," Mrs. Lovett said mildly. "Now…give me the hat stand…" She firmly pried it from his reluctant fingers and placed it in the corner. "There's no need for that silly, old hat stand,"

Toby looked completely unconvinced. "Where's…Mr. Todd…"

"Downstairs, asleep," Mrs. Lovett said soothingly. "He's not going to hurt you. He knows it was just an accident…a silly accident,"

Toby opened his mouth quickly and then slowly closed it again looking uncertain.

"Right, Toby?" Mrs. Lovett pressed firmly. "An accident."

Toby finally nodded.

"Smashing!" Mrs. Lovett said brightly. "When he wakes up you can apologise to him and everything will be lovely," She took his hand and began to lead him back downstairs. He was more than a little hesitant and kept glancing behind wistfully.

When downstairs, Mrs. Lovett had to half drag Toby into the living room where the sleeping Mr. Todd was still slumped on the settee with the hot water bottle. Toby's eyes widened considerably when he spotted him with the hot water bottle sticking out from between his legs. Mrs. Lovett glanced at Toby and hastily tugged the hot water bottle away.

"He'll be fine, love." Mrs. Lovett said cheerfully. "He won't be infertile…" _Hopefully._

Toby nodded fearfully, his eyes still fixed on Mr. Todd. "He's not…_dead_… is he?"

"Good God, no. He's asleep, dear. Asleep!" Mrs. Lovett said hastily, beginning towards the kitchen with the now lukewarm hot water bottle, Toby followed close behind. "He'll be asleep for a while now I should think after last night… which reminds me…" She leant on the table, with a slight frown. "Why did you lock us in the broom closet, love? It's really a very odd thing to do…"

She squinted slightly at his face hoping he wasn't picking up on Mr. Todd's oddities. She could deal with _one _murderous, raving lunatic but not _two_…

"Um…" Toby wasn't sure whether he wanted to disclose his plan to her just yet but he had no other excuse for his bizarre actions. "I…" He trailed off again, staring firmly at the ground.

"Yes?" Mrs. Lovett prompted him.

"I was hoping…" He lowered his voice to an almost incoherent mumble. "Hopin' you'd ged' marred…"

"Marred…" Mrs. Lovett repeated blankly.

"Marred…" Toby grunted.

"Marred…" Mrs. Lovett shook her head with a baffled frown.

"MARRIED!" Toby bellowed at her.

Mrs. Lovett looked like she'd been slapped over the face with a cold fish. "_Married?_" She spluttered. "_Married?_" She slid down into a chair.

Toby nodded miserably.

Mrs. Lovett shook her head slightly, as though trying to determine if she was actually awake. "You locked us in the cupboard…to get us married…"

"I know it sounds stupid…" Toby grumbled, taking a seat opposite her.

"It sounds…_mad_." Mrs. Lovett burst out, still staring at Toby as though he had just announced he'd joined _Alcoholics Anonymous_. "Are you feelin' alright?" She clasped a hand to his forehead but he batted her away crossly.

"I feel _fine_," He said irritably. "I'm not a complete moron you know… I do know… stuff…"

"What stuff?" She asked him, frowning.

"Stuff stuff," He replied promptly, sounding pleased with himself.

"What stuff stuff…" Mrs. Lovett demanded.

"You knoooow… stuff about…underclothes and things…" He said bashfully, suddenly becoming fascinated with a candle burn on the tabletop.

Mrs. Lovett relaxed considerably. She could live with him knowing about underclothes… it was the mauled bodies of murdered barber customers shooting through a chute to her bake house that she was worried about…

"So. What do underclothes have to do with me and Mr. Todd, a closet and marriage…?" Mrs. Lovett asked tiredly, leaning her chin in her hand and closing her eyes.

"Well…" Toby hesitated. Dare he tell her about the aphrodisiac…? He didn't know how she'd react… She could be beside herself with rage or…well that was about the only possible outcome he could think of… Until Mr. Todd found out and then he'd be as good as dead…if he weren't already… Homicidal barbers didn't usually take too kindly to twelve-year-old's taking their sex lives into their own hands…and then kicking them in the…eh…privates…

"Mmm?" Mrs. Lovett prompted him without opening her eyes.

"I…may have…slipped something…into your…gin..." Toby mumbled, keeping his eyes on the candle burn.

Mrs. Lovett's chin slipped off her hand. "_What_…"

"Well I'm glad I got that off my chest, cheers!" Toby blurted out, scrambling up from the table and making a beeline for the doorway.

"TOBY!" He heard Mrs. Lovett bawl from the kitchen as he made his escape down the hallway.

--

Mrs. Lovett stormed down the hallway, throwing open cupboard doors and glaring around sharply for any sign of Toby. She knew he couldn't be far. All thoughts of protecting Toby from Mr. Todd were quite banished on hearing these new developments. Everything made sense now. The windowsill incident and the closet… God she'd been so _stupid_. To think Mr. Todd could actually, genuinely want to be with her! The fact that she had entertained the thought made her even more furious with herself and Toby for making her falsely believe Mr. Todd was finally returning her affections. She wanted to find the boy and shake him for his stupidity. For his _interference_. And she'd have to tell Mr. Todd…how humiliating. How degrading! She could hardly bare it…

"Oh damn it," She groaned, falling against the wall and letting herself slide down it until she was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. She couldn't be bothered chastising Toby… She was too disillusioned and miserable…

She laid her head back against the wall, remembering dully how Sweeney had drifted his fingers over her skin, breathed softly against her neck, drawn his lips across her with his teeth grazing her until goosebumps appeared. It seemed so vapid and humiliating now. Like he had been forced to do it… Her first sex in _years _had been a product of a bloody aphrodisiac… Well, how was _that _for confidence building…

She slid further down the wall, wishing she could sink through the floor and just keep sinking. It was no good. Soon Sweeney would wake up and she'd have to tend to him and Toby would most likely appear around suppertime and she'd have to question him as to what had possessed him to spike her and Mr. Todd with an aphrodisiac… Mr. Todd would be all smug and pleased about having an excuse to hold her at arms length again and she'd go back to being the ignored baker who cooked and cleaned for a self-absorbed git… She gave a frustrated groan and buried her head in her hands. Why did everything always happen to her?

"Marm?"

She gave an involuntary jerk of fright.

"Toby!" She hissed, the boy appearing out of the gloom. "What's with you and sneaking up on me in the dark?"

"Sorry…" He replied hesitantly. "Are you… crying?"

"Crying!" Mrs. Lovett burst out. "I'm jolly well _not_ crying!! I was merely _resting_…my head…in my… hands…"

And awkward silence followed in which Toby hovered nervously, shifting from foot to foot and Mrs. Lovett sniffed fiercely against the wall, keeping her face directed subtly towards the floor. She couldn't bring herself to lecture Toby about his irresponsibility and disobedience even though she knew that's what a real mother would most likely do if their son drugged them with an aphrodisiac… but Mrs. Lovett felt too sulky to play 'mummy' at the moment…

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… upset you," Toby said, pained. Mrs. Lovett glanced up at him. He looked like he was agonizing over what to say. She tried to put him out of his misery.

She attempted a watery smile. "N-no, love! It's not your fault. You were only… trying to be kind after all…" She gave a shuddery breath. "But…I suppose it's not so bad…growing old…alone…with no one…ever…wanting you…ever again-

She burst in tears, bawling into her hands. Toby watched on in horror. He wasn't used to emotion… He glanced around. What was he supposed to do…?

He ended up patting her awkwardly on the shoulder while she wept noisily on the floor, sobbing about 'dying alone' and 'never having sex ever again' in a way that was quite alarming for a boy of twelve who was still learning about underclothes…and things…

Meanwhile, in the next room a very groggy Sweeney Todd was waking up. The first thing he noticed was that the pain between his legs had lessened considerably and that it had been replaced by a throbbing headache caused by he didn't know what. He slowly pealed himself off the settee, smoothing his rumpled clothing and pushing his hair out of his face. His frowned about the gloomy living room, Mrs. Lovett was nowhere to be seen… He wondered whether now he could take his revenge on Toby without her noticing… The boy probably wouldn't come if he called him, being fully aware that Mr. Todd wanted to beat the living daylights out of him, but if he found him before the boy realised what was happening… mwa ha ha … so evil…

He treaded softly out of the living room, through the kitchen, watching closely for signs of Mrs. Lovett or the boy. If he met Mrs. Lovett then it would all be ruined. She would start fussing and blathering on like usual and he'd never get away… But as he turned into the darkened hallway he realised he wouldn't have to watch for either her or Toby after all. He found both of them crouched on the floor against the wall.

He froze in the doorway, frowning from Toby to Mrs. Lovett…

"Uh. What's going on here?" He remarked.

Mrs. Lovett scrambled up so fast Toby was almost knocked off his feet. "Nothing!" She squeaked, painfully aware of her tear-streaked face.

Mr. Todd raised an eyebrow at her and turned his eyes to Toby. "_You_," He spat, ready to wring the boy's neck. "I am going to-

"Mr. Todd. I have something to tell you," Toby cut in, surprisingly boldly for someone apparently so frightened of the man.

Mr. Todd stared at him. "Does it explain why you locked us in the cupboard and then kicked me in the…lower stomach?"

"Well… yes and no…" Toby replied hesitantly.

"Let's go into the living room," Mrs. Lovett croaked, hurrying towards the living room entrance, wiping her face hastily with a handkerchief as she went.

Mr. Todd fixed his eyes distrustfully on Toby for a few moments but finally followed Mrs. Lovett into the living room. She was already fussing, pouring a couple of tumblers of gin and bustling aimlessly around the room to avoid looking at Mr. Todd. Mr. Todd had noticed her tear stained face and was intrigued as to why she had been crying and perhaps even… a tiny smidgen…concerned…but only as far as he could throw her…

"Now," Mrs. Lovett said in a painfully strained cheerful voice. "Let's all sit down and have a nice bit o' gin,"

She sat down stiffly on the edge of her favourite chair, her eyes downward. Toby hastened to sit and Mr. Todd slowly took his seat with his usual swaggering indifference.

"Toby, love, " She nodded at him. She just wanted to get the humiliation over and done with…let Mr. Todd smirk and sneer all he wanted. She'd just put itching powder in his laundry…

"Well…" Toby hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Lovett. She was staring fixedly at her skirt. "I…think…I might know…why you…and…Mrs. Lovett…have been…ah…" He cleared his throat, his cheeks burning. "Feeling…a little different…as of late…"

Mr. Todd was frowning disconcertingly at him from the settee as he always did. That frown seemed to be permanently imprinted on his haggard face…

"You see…I…used a…powder from _Miller's Apothecary _to um…drug you and Mrs. Lovett…" Toby said this so quietly and inarticulately that Mr. Todd barely heard what he was saying but what he did hear… "_Miller's Apothecary" _and "drug" painted a picture vivid enough for him to realise what had happened.

"You _drugged _us," He said blankly, feeling almost too shocked for anger…yet.

"Yes…" Toby replied awkwardly.

"Oh…" Was all Mr. Todd could conjure up at the moment.

Mrs. Lovett was sitting silently in her chair, eyes still set on her skirt. She didn't really know how she had expected Mr. Todd to react but stunned silence was very unlike him. He was more the 'have a big tantrum' type…

"Sorry?" Toby offered weakly.

"_Sorry_." Mr. Todd repeated hollowly.

Mrs. Lovett raised her eyes to the ceiling. Here it came. You could almost taste the anger building up behind those blank, dark eyes.

"_Sorry?! _For what? For drugging us or for locking us in the cupboard or for kicking me in the crotch?" Mr. Todd rumbled. "I can't believe this!" He stood up abruptly.

Mrs. Lovett cringed. Here it came… the temper tantrum. The 'I'm Sweeney bloody Todd, give me what I want NOW or I'll scream' scenario. Sweeney's answer to everything: anger, violence and tantrums.

"How did you let him get away with this?" He had rounded on Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett looked up sharply. "I didn't _let_ him get away with anything!" She snapped.

"Well…well… the boy need's discipline!" Mr. Todd spluttered beginning to stride here and there about the room like he always did when he got excited. "He runs amok! He needs a strong figure to keep him in line!"

Mrs. Lovett cocked an eyebrow. "You're idea of 'keeping him in line' is beating him to a pulp,"

Mr. Todd wasn't listening. "He has no respect for his elders!"

"Hey! Watch who you're callin' an 'elder'," Mrs. Lovett remarked crossly, sounding insulted.

"…He lies and he disobeys! I won't have it!" Mr. Todd ranted, thoroughly in his zone now. "I am the man in this household and I will have order!"

Mrs. Lovett raised her eyebrows. She'd never heard _that_ before…

He spun to Mrs. Lovett. "From this point onwards. _I_ am the man. _I _discipline the boy. And _you _Mrs. Lovett can debate me on this or meet me head to head and we'll see who comes out on top." He said hotly.

Mrs. Lovett and Toby were speechless, they simply stared, mouths open and eyes wide.

Mr. Todd had finished. He took a deep breath, straightened his shirt pointedly, neatened his hair and began towards the door. But before he reached it he turned suddenly to Mrs. Lovett.

"We will have another drinking match tonight and that's final." With that he stalked into the kitchen.

After a few moments of ringing silence Mrs. Lovett looked at Toby and shrugged. Toby looked stunned at the fact that the barber hadn't strangled him. After all. Hell hath no fury like a barber scorned…as Mrs. Lovett would soon find out…

_End of Chapter Ten_


	11. Tweaking The Odds

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay ladies and gents. Been like the busiest week of my life. Exams, parties, formals... Eieieieie... But neway. Here tis'. Enjoy.

**I bumped the rating up for safety. In all honesty I don't think it's quite there but I thought it better to be safe than sorry.**

**Disclaimer: Hélas ! Je ne les possède pas !**

Tweaking The Odds

Mr. Todd knew he had acted immaturely. He knew that demanding a drinking match was not something responsible grown men did but he didn't feel like acting like a responsible grown man. He felt like _making _Mrs. Lovett respect him and if he had to get her thoroughly drunk in the process then so be it. He had to show her he was just as manly as _she _wa-…no, that wasn't right…

He frowned. He wanted to aim a little higher than a busty landlady, half his height. As masculine as… he stared around the kitchen for inspiration… as masculine as an…alpha male gorilla in mating season? Bleargh. Well it would have to do…

He waited a few minutes in Mrs. Lovett's kitchen, staring broodingly at the floor. He didn't regret what he'd said to Mrs. Lovett. She _should _havecontrolled the boy. He had been way out of line. How _dare_ he drug Mr. Todd! The nerve! He should have liked to _beat_ respect into the boy but he knew Mrs. Lovett would never allow it. And even if he got away with it, he'd have to put up with her whinging and whining for weeks on end… so he'd really end up punishing himself much more severely than he would Toby.

With a heavy sigh at this cruel irony, he pushed himself up from the baking table he'd been leaning against in his sulk and headed for the outside stairs to his barbershop. He wasn't going back in the living room…having begun to feel the first, niggling feelings of foolishness after acting like such a child, screaming and carrying on. He'd managed, yet again, to act like a complete idiot in front of Mrs. Lovett and yet again she had sat there calm and unaffected, watching her accomplice behave like a toddler separated from its toy. He cringed as he ascended the stairs. He really needed to work on that temper…otherwise he'd never perfect his 'intimidating and ever-so manly barber' persona… intimidating and ever-so manly barbers didn't _have_ tantrums…

He slipped into his barbershop and stared around the gloomy interior. He hadn't really had a decent, full week of work for a very long time and his purse was suffering. Not that he actually spent money on anything… He didn't buy clothes unless the ones he already had were falling apart at the seams. He knew that if Mrs. Lovett had her way she'd have a whole, new wardrobe made for him but he really wasn't a velvet and lace type of man… He'd seen the monstrosities she cooed over and they were _not _what manly barbers wore…

He used to spend every waking moment (which was a lot giving his fragmented sleeping patterns) thinking about gaining access to and slaughtering Judge Turpin but now he only spent _half_ his time thinking about killing the judge and the other half thinking of ways to: A) Prove he was manly to a particularly sceptical baker and B) Annoy that sceptical baker as much as possible in the process. But so far, his attempts had generally been foiled by the woman's annoying refusal to admit he was superior. Which really wasn't fair… He didn't know _why _he cared about her opinion so deeply but the result of many years of brooding solitude was a newborn sense of obsessive disturbance over the tiniest cause of insecurity or discomfort. When the thought, that Mrs. Lovett maybe didn't think him as fiercely masculine as he had always considered himself, had become implanted in his mind it had tortured him for weeks before he had finally addressed the problem and received a perfectly unsatisfying answer from the woman in question.

And he just couldn't work out _why_ she didn't think him masculine! It infuriated him. He spent every day slitting the jugulars of unfortunate, unknowing Londoners for God's sake. _That_ took a real man. All that blood. All that gore. On a daily basis! _She_ couldn't have done it! She couldn't end someone's life! She only dealt with them when they were good and dead and when they were in that state they were barely anything more than animals to be stripped of their flesh and put in a pie. _Anyone_ could do that…

With a heavy sigh he sank into his barber chair and slumped down into the cushion, feeling exhausted. A new sensation for someone used to being torturously awake all day and all night. He laid his head back on the seat and closing his heavy eyes, imagined he was in the lap of his dead wife…her hair falling softly over his skin… skin so devoid of affection all these long, cold years… He imagined she was trailing her fingers over his skin; her lips were caressing his ear… He felt the corners of his lips jerk slightly as he pictured her lovely face swimming above him, her arms around him… protecting him from the notions of pain, anger and vengeance…

He felt dizzy and…desirous. He wanted to take his wife into his arms and…wait… no…what the hell was this…? Before his eyes his lovely wife's face was changing… He watched in frozen horror as the yellow hair, the gentle mouth, the soft eyes were replaced with another face… a familiar face… that did not calm him… but also strangely and unnervingly did not repulse him… He was dreaming of Mrs. Lovett… _why _was he dreaming of Mrs. Lovett?! Why was she now straddling his lap with her thighs… why was she sliding her hands through his tangled hair like his lover and pushing herself so hard against him, he almost groaned at the pressure. _Why why why_! This wasn't right…

"Wake up," He commanded himself sternly as Mrs. Lovett tightened her thighs around him. "_Gaood_…that feels…NO. WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" He tried to claw his way back into consciousness but was not able to shift himself out from under Mrs. Lovett's imaginary weight. "DON'T DO THAT!" He yelped, as she put her hand somewhere Lucy wouldn't have even in a dream.

Mrs. Lovett smirked at him and didn't move her hand. "Ooh Mr. Todd…" She whined into his ear, mocking him and his weak desire. "Mr. Todd…"

"Wake up…" He begged himself. "Pleeeeease wake up…"

"Mr. Todd…" She cooed, her lips grazing his neck and making him shiver at the contact on his sensitive spot.

"Urgh…please wake up," He managed to gasp. He was too aroused now. He was losing to her…

"Mr. Todd!" She suddenly gave him a sharp shove and he reeled back, staring at this sudden change in behaviour. "MR. TODD!"

"GET OFF ME!" He roared, jolting upright and clawing wildly at the air.

Mrs. Lovett frowned back at him, standing before his chair with her hands squarely on her hips. "Alright, love. Calm down. I wouldn't have waken yer'…" She said. "…Only you haven't had a customer for a while and…well I do_ need_ meat, love or the pies don't get made…"

Mr. Todd stared at her. What was she talking about… The 'Mrs. Lovett' on his lap had vanished. He was sitting upright in his barber chair, alone and the woman who had moments before been shoving her fingers everywhere imaginable was standing quite primly before him, clearly not sticking her fingers anywhere and unlikely to do so…

"Um. Ok," He said vaguely, still feeling sore and uneasy from the brief and violent dream. It was hard to look her in the eye when she had been doing _that_ to him such a brief time beforehand…or in his dream at least.

"Well… I can't magic one out of thin air…can I…?" He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. It irritated him that she had interrupted him while he had been dreaming of her… She always entered at the most inappropriate times…

"There's a gent in my shoppy, whose lookin' like he could be a contender," She said off-handedly, examining her nails. "I was thinkin' I'd feed im' up and then send im' up…" She returned her eyes to Mr. Todd's face with a slight smirk. He swore she had no soul…

Mr. Todd was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He was now realising just how… eh 'over stimulating' the dream had been. He crossed his legs pointedly, feeling stupid but preferring to hide the fact that he'd been having dirty dreams from Mrs. Lovett than to sit in a more masculine position.

"Ok. Well. Go on." He snapped, wishing fiercely that she'd leave.

She hesitated, examining his face. "Are you alright, Mr. T? You seem a bit edgy..." Then again… Mr. Todd was generally _always _edgy…

"I'm fine. Get out." He said irritably. "I have… something to attend to…"

Mrs. Lovett raised an eyebrow but didn't ask any questions; sometimes it was best not to know… She finally turned on her heel and left Mr. Todd to his 'business'.

Mr. Todd let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her. Assuming that the gent she was speaking of was not an unusually brisk eater, he should hopefully have at least twenty minutes to deal with his little- no actually HUGE problem…

--

So he'd had _one _slightly sexual dream about Mrs. Lovett… it didn't mean he was going crazy…did it…

Mr. Todd pondered on this as he watched the bloodstained, crumpled figure of Mrs. Lovett's 'gent' slide into the depths of the floor below his barbershop…

But was it really _that _unusual for men to have dreams about women who they, in actuality, had no attraction to whatsoever…? And besides it could just have been Toby's mischief again. Maybe…if you had too much of an aphrodisiac it affected you for life… That was extremely unlikely but he allowed that miniscule hope to remain in his store of explanations amongst such others as 'I must have eaten cheese sometime before I fell sleep'.

But then on the _other _hand, after fifteen years of imprisonment, why _shouldn't _he be a little…on edge? But. Why _her_? She was… so complicated. Lucy had been good and pure and kind. She had been simple, an open book with a lovely face and not a fibre of cruelty in her being. But Mrs. Lovett… She was a new force to him. She was untamed, independent, sadistically practical…cruel… She was everything his squeaky clean wife hadn't been. So why was he now having these thoughts about her? Maybe when he'd 'changed' so had his… 'tastes'. In women at least… Maybe he no longer wanted a pretty, uncomplicated Lucy. Perhaps he wanted a woman who seemed to have no shame… who used human flesh in her pies, drank like a sailor and swore like one too… Who was ready to hitch her skirts up for him almost on cue but still insisted she was respectable… when everyone knew she wasn't…

And he'd slept with her… Which was something he wasn't proud of and now felt he couldn't _really _be held accountable for… He had been on an aphrodisiac after all. So perhaps that should have been a relief? To know that he hadn't sought it on his own accord? Although… if Toby hadn't done it in the first place… Then he wouldn't have ended up shagging her against her living room windowsill and then trying to attack her in the broom closet. Which in the end might have prevented this sudden developed interest in her… _Sigh_… It really was not easy being a murderous barber with masculinity issues and a meddling baker living just downstairs with a meddling _child_ with an evident sexual obsession…

He began to pace, head down and hands behind his back, brooding darkly on this ridiculous situation. What was the answer? What was the solution? How did he both keep himself from becoming too involved with _that woman _and strike fear into her heart at the same time with his brute masculinity? _How_… He frowned so deeply that his brows met in the middle.

Then it hit him and the obviousness of it made him wonder how he hadn't thought of it before. _He could just avoid her._ He perked up. Maybe that was the answer he was looking for. He needed to go on a 'Lovett patch'. He had to _make_ himself get over whatever little thing he had for her. And then he'd be back to his door slamming, meal skipping, gin sculling, Lovett insulting, Toby kicking, hall strutting, judge killing ways in no time. Then, when he had put her in her place…he could show her what true masculinity was… Cold, unfeeling masculinity… Yes, _avoidance _was the-

"Oh bugger." He said suddenly, freezing in mid pace. "_The drinking match_…" Oh no… This _so_ wasn't good. Why hadn't he just kept his temper? Now he was going to get his arse kicked in a drinking match the _second _time in a row. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"_Idiot_." He snarled at himself, whirling around to his window. "You couldn't just _walk away_ could you, you had to get all 'I'm the man of the house' on her. Now she'll be beside herself with glee when she _whips_ you tonight…ha…whips- SHUP UP. STOP THINKINGABOUT THAT. You're a horny, old bastard with no morals and no will power and you're going to loose to a woman… _again_. What a sorry excuse for a murderer you are…"

He glared darkly into the London Street. Things were so complicated with women. This game he was playing with Mrs. Lovett had gone past being merely a need to prove himself to her, it had become survival of the fittest. They both adored it when the other one failed. Well, he knew _he_ certainly did, he couldn't really speak for Mrs. Lovett but she was as ruthless as he was, she was no saint. Every weakness he managed to unearth in Mrs. Lovett pleased him and surely she must have felt the same? Or maybe she really didn't care. Maybe he was simply making a fool of himself in front of her… as usual. He wished he could read her mind. It would make things rather simpler…

The main thing was that he got back on top. After all he had something she didn't. Control of his emotions. And he could use that against her. It only took a few little pushes and he could break her emotional control as easily as kill a man. He could break her spirit and then he'd have control of her… He didn't know why that was so important to him but it was and he needed it, he needed control. Tonight, it was key he won the drinking match. This was no longer a game; he had to bring her to her knees. He _had _to. She _would _admit his superiority. He would ensure she did… if it was the last thing he did…

--

Mrs. Lovett just couldn't work Mr. Todd out. His violent mood swings were baffling to say the least, as was this insane determination to prove his masculinity. Who did he have anything to prove to? Why would he care for God's sake… Unless… She really shouldn't have been letting the hope even appear in the furthest corner of her mind but… maybe it was _her _that he was attempting to prove himself to? It was desperately unlikely but after spending a good deal of her life in love with Mr. Todd it never ceased to create the tiniest hope that it would one day be reciprocated. Whether it was a momentary glance, a slight touch of the hand… vigorous sex against the window sill… it all served to feed her inner most hope that he would one day fall in love with her. The fact that all the little encounters between the two had been explained away by the aphrodisiac had been a blow to her hope but it hadn't killed it. The hope was tough, it would take more than a few disappointments to crush its sturdy outer shell.

But she could never betray that hope to Mr. Todd either way. It had to remain nicely hidden away so she could retain her dignity. If he ever found out… well then she'd lose control of the situation. If he knew he had an advantage, a trick card over her then all her hard work would be ruined. And that was why she had to beat him at the drinking match. She was confident she could do it. It was all a question of keeping control. She had to keep it. She had to have it over him, no matter what the challenge.

--

Shortly after seven o' clock, Mr. Todd slunk down from his barbershop. He had long since sent the last customer down to Mrs. Lovett's bakehouse and cleaned himself of the bloodstains, which accumulated throughout the day. His task was one that required complete stealth and that was why he was using the pretence of delivering his bloodied clothes to Mrs. Lovett's laundry room if he happened to be caught. But he thought it unlikely. It was late, the pie shop was closed, Toby was asleep in the living room and from what he had learnt of Mrs. Lovett's bathing habits, she should have been having a bath this very moment.

He slipped down the hallway without being disturbed, and found the kitchen empty. He crept then to the laundry and heard through the door, the gentle 'slooshing' of water against skin. The sound sent a strange shiver down his spine and he quickly hurried away to return to his task. He didn't know how long he had.

He went into Mrs. Lovett's kitchen and set two tumblers on the table. He then went to her liqueur cabinet and drew out two full bottles of gin. He set one bottle beside one of the tumblers and took the other to the sink and proceeded to pour half of the bottle down the drain. It was depressing to do it but he managed to watch his precious alcohol trickle away and then return the bottle to the table, filled up now with another clear liquid. Though one considerably less likely to get the drinker drunk.

--

When Mrs. Lovett got out of the bathroom, dressed in her bathrobe, she found Mr. Todd sitting at the table with the tumblers and gin bottles already assembled. He looked grimly calm as he sat on the far side of the table, tumbler at hand.

"So you're serious, are you?" Mrs. Lovett remarked dubiously, looking from the bottles to the tumblers. "We're doing this yet again."

"Yes." Mr. Todd replied shortly, gesturing sharply to the chair opposite him. "Sit."

Mrs. Lovett cocked an eyebrow at him; she hadn't really expected him to go through with it. She had expected him to simply not come down, embarrassed by the prospect of losing again to Mrs. Lovett. But here he was, almost smug in his confidence.

"Sit." He repeated snappily.

Mrs. Lovett sluggishly took her seat.

There was no exchanging of snide comments this time. Mr. Todd watched Mrs. Lovett take her seat and snatched his bottle of gin away from her hand.

"That's yours," He snapped at her, jerking his head at the bottle in front of her.

"Alright, alright." She replied, slightly taken aback by his abrupt action. "No need to get all snippy."

Mr. Todd grunted in reply and proceeded to pour his first tumbler of gin. Mrs. Lovett did the same with hers. Then they sat for a few moments staring awkwardly at each other.

"Well… let's get on with it," Mrs. Lovett said suddenly, taking up her first tumbler and taking a steady sip.

Mr. Todd mirrored her, a slight smirk on his pale lips.

Now, Sweeney Todd was not usually a cheat. He usually was quite honest…for a murderer… But tonight the circumstances were different. He felt he was at liberty to tweak the odds… or in other words fill his gin bottle half with water… It was underhanded, yes but if he won then who cared what the method consisted of? No one that was who.

And now, knowing that he was in-taking half the amount of alcohol that Mrs. Lovett was, he could admire the results. He could tell that his steady intake of alcohol without so much as a pause surprised her. In her eyes, he was drinking as much as she was but remaining unnervingly sober. As she downed her seventh tumbler, she gave an unsteady sway on her seat, and just managed to stay upright.

"Mind you don't fall, my love." Mr. Todd smirked; she glared at him with a slight swagger.

"I'm… _fine_." She hissed, digging her heels into the stones and moving herself as upright as she could manage.

Mr. Todd had finished ten tumblers worth of gin, except he'd only really had five. He felt only slightly tipsy, not even tipsy. He was almost unaffected… _almost_. Mrs. Lovett was staring unfocusedly at the table. She'd managed to drink her way through her first bottle and she had her next tumbler (after spilling a considerable amount over the table in her attempt to pour it) in front of her, untouched.

"Mishter… Todd…" She said suddenly, her head swaying from side to side very slightly as she tried to focus on him. "How… you… do tha'…"

"Do what?" He asked her mildly, examining his nails offhandedly.

"Drink all tha'… no' be affected…" She slurred.

"Oh you know…" He replied breezily. "Men just have bigger builds… we can take more alcohol."

"No' true." She bleated, stumbling to her feet. "I'll show… you,"

She tried to come around the table to him but she tripped on her unsteady feet and plummeted to the ground. She clawed her way up his legs to her feet. Before she could steady herself, she had swayed too far to the left and almost tumbled over again. This time Mr. Todd managed to catch her around the waist and threw her back into his arms, scooping her reluctant body upward.

"You're going to hurt yourself." He said patiently as she thrashed about in his arms.

"No I'm no'…" She said in a muffled voice as she tried to free herself from his arms. "GEDORF!"

"No." He replied calmly, taking her small form into the living room.

"Mishter T," She whined, halting her thrashing so suddenly he almost dropped her. "You're hurtin' me…"

"I don't care." He growled, depositing her on the settee.

She tumbled back on the settee, the tie on her robe coming lose and treating Mr. Todd to a clear view of her unmentionables. A view that he was infuriated to note caused him a slight twinge below the belt. Stupid, unintentional attraction… He was so angry he could have kicked it… That was if it wouldn't have most likely resulted in severe pain. Not to mention it being impossible for most human beings to kick their own… Well the point was. It was ridiculous and he had to ignore it, or get rid of it. Or both. Yes, both sounded good.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Lovett was laying back sulkily on the settee, her knees up and her head back, not seeming to care that she was showing her lace bloomers to the world.

"Should I leave you here or do you want to go to bed?" Mr. Todd asked grudgingly.

She perked up. "Oh yeeesss Mishter Todd…" She purred, struggling up. "Take me to bed…"

Mr. Todd turned pink. "I meant YOU go to bed and I-

"You?"

"Also go to bed- UPSTAIRS. I go to bed UPSTAIRS." He spluttered, feeling very hot around the collar.

"I have room… in my bed." She growled, pouting dazedly at him.

Mr. Todd looked around impatiently, jiggling from foot to foot. He really wish she'd stop doing that… She was making it extremely hard to ignore the ache situated a few inches below his belt.

"I'm tired." He said abruptly, as she laid a hand on his thigh. He shot backwards and came into contact with the coffee table. Trapped…

She gave a drunken giggle and flopped onto her knees, placing a hand on each of his thighs. With a strangled squeak, Mr. Todd bolted out from between the settee and table, unnerved by her advances and his bodily response to them.

"Can you stop doing that?" He demanded of her as she batted her eyelashes at him from the settee.

"Alright…" She said sweetly, falling back and purposely parting her legs.

Mr. Todd took a deep breath, darted forward, threw her into his arms and made a break for it down the hallway to her bedroom. She was squeaking and wriggling the whole way but he managed to get to her bedroom, toss her onto the bed and shoot back out, closing the door firmly behind him. He locked it from the outside and slumped against the wall as her protesting yowls began from behind the door.

"Lemme out!" She wailed at him. "Mishter _Toooood!_"

"Go to _sleep_!" He bellowed back at her to no avail.

She continued her howling from behind the door and Mr. Todd buried his head in his hands and groaned. Would she never shut up…

--

An hour or so later, Mr. Todd slowly brought his head up, hardly daring to believe she had finally fallen silent. But yes, the bitter complaining had halted, the rattling door was still. She was asleep! He tentatively got to his feet and unlocked the door, pushing it carefully open and edging inside. The baker was slumped against the wall, fast asleep, her head lulling to one side. He almost smiled. She was so different when she was asleep, small and vulnerable.

He carefully scooped her up and took her to the bed, laying her gently down and pulling the blankets over her. He was just moving away from her when her eyes flickered open.

"Mishter… T?" She slurred, hardly able to move her head upright. "Please… don' leave…"

Mr. Todd hesitated, glancing at the door and then at Mrs. Lovett's figure on the bed.

With a heavy sigh he returned to the bed, sat down on the edge and immediately found Mrs. Lovett's arms drag him down to her face.

"Please, Mishter T…" She whispered but he could smell the gin strong on her breath.

"You're drunk." He replied simply, prying her hands off him and laying them down firmly beside her. This time she didn't struggle or complain, she simply lay limply on her side, her eyes half open. Then, gradually, she closed her eyes and her breath became deep and steady. She was asleep.

Mr. Todd sat on the edge of her bed, huddled over his lap; hands clasped together and eyes staring darkly at the faded wallpaper.

_End of Chapter Eleven_


	12. Subjugation

**Author's Notes: **Brumm Brumm XD Anyvays... (yes VAYS) This is part 12... as most of you would have guessed. It is fairly as ridiculous as the 11 other chappy's. And I am going safety-netless and posting it without the approval of Alice so yes... it could be a horrible mess. You have that exciting prospect ahead of you :P As in most things I've wandered away from the main topic of 'masculinity', simply because... I am silly and I tend to go off the tracks, hit a tree, catch fire, blow up and get crushed by a rock that happened to be rolling past spontaneously. Anyways. I'll stop rambling aimlessly now and get on with the formalities...

Although before I do. The following chappy has some influence from one of my idols: Marilyn Monroe. Primarily two of her movies: _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes _and _How To Marry A Millionaire. _So if you've seen either or both of these movies you'll probably pick up on a few weak references but naturally it isn't necessary to have seen either.

**A HUGE thank you to reviewers. You are all sparkly, sugary dolls of fabulousness. Hoozah!**

**Disclaimer: I own them not. Own them not I. Them, not I own. Not them own I.**

Subjugation

When Mr. Todd awoke he found himself slumped backwards over Mrs. Lovett's legs, his back arched painfully and his head thrown back and aching from the blood being in his head all night. How he had fallen asleep like this he didn't know… He gave a groan as he pushed himself upright, pain all the way up his back and neck.

"Ah Gads." He groaned, rubbing his neck to relieve the stiffness.

From behind him Mrs. Lovett gave a sleepy snuffle. Mr. Todd glanced at her. Her hair was even more wild than usual and she had deep rings around her eyes. But she evidently hadn't choked on her own vomit during the night so that was mildly comforting. And his victory over her would be complete when she woke up and slowly realised how spectacularly she had lost to Mr. Todd and how much of a fool she had made of herself. Ah, revenge was sweet.

As long as her memory didn't detail how obviously her advances had flustered Mr. Todd rather than disgusted him as they should have done. Because if she remembered _that _then she'd have something to hold over his head. And if she had something to hold over his head, he would lose the edge to his victory… His first victory since the potatoes.

He suddenly heard a haggard groan from behind him and peered around to find Mrs. Lovett clawing her way upright. Her forehead was creased deeply in pain and her eyes were bleary and unfocused.

"Good morning." He smirked, as she blinked blankly at him and rubbed her head fiercely. "Sleep well?"

She stared at him for a few moments; head swaying and then suddenly lurched forward and vomited spectacularly over the side of the bed.

--

"What the hell is that?" Mrs. Lovett croaked as Mr. Todd shoved something brown and lumpy under her nose.

"Soup," Mr. Todd replied.

"What flavour…" Mrs. Lovett asked suspiciously, sniffing it.

"My own recipe." Mr. Todd said sweetly, taking a seat opposite her. "It will help your head."

"Or will it turn me into a beaver or something." Mrs. Lovett grumbled. "Knowing you…"

"Would I do something like that? Take advantage of a poor, defenceless woman in pain?" Mr. Todd said, pretending to be wounded. "Shame on you."

Mrs. Lovett glared at him and pushed away the 'soup'. "Hmph."

Mr. Todd shrugged and took it away. He was feeling too content with his victory to try and taunt her into eating it.

She was bent over the table in a stupor of sulkiness at losing the drinking match and intense pain and nausea. He almost felt sorry for her but quickly shooed his pity away. He had to cling onto this victory and milk it for all it's worth.

"Would you like some coffee?" Mr. Todd asked her mildly, leaning against the baker's table and examining her from afar.

"No." She replied stiffly.

"Damp cloth…" He smirked.

"Oh go away." She snapped at him, sweeping up from the table and stalking into the living room.

Mr. Todd cackled. As childish as he knew it was, he adored rubbing it in her face. He followed her into the living room and found her slumped miserably on the settee on her back. She looked thoroughly wretched, almost tearful and Mr. Todd found himself becoming a little disheartened in his torment of her. Taunting someone who was about as threatening as a kicked, stray kitten was generally pretty unsatisfying. With a sigh he took a seat in her usual favourite chair and watched her flop limply in her 'woe is me' pose.

"Oh leave me alone." She wailed, turning her back to him. "I hate you and your stupid masculinity."

"So you admit I have masculinity?" Mr. Todd perked up.

Mrs. Lovett gave a muffled cry of frustration and buried her head in her hands. "You can take your blasted masculinity and stick it-

"Alright!" Mr. Todd cut in hurriedly. "No need to get all snippy…"

Silence fell on the two for a few moments.

"But… I am masculine now… right?"

"GET OUT."

--

Mrs. Lovett found that she had to keep her mind off her throbbing headache to make the day bearable. She went about her business as usual, avoiding opening the shop but pottering about tidying and cleaning. She did Mr. Todd's laundry but avoided the barber in question himself. He was positively gleeful in his victory and every time she thought about the former night's proceedings she cringed and her cheeks burned. She'd humiliated herself in front of Mr. Todd and what was worse was that he hadn't even attempted to make the moves on her while she was drunk! What sort of pansy was he?! Hmph. It made her cross…

She gripped harder on Mr. Todd's shirt as she scrubbed the bloodstains covering a good part of it. It made her so furious that he'd won. He had actually gone through with something for once and succeeded in asserting his masculinity. How strange… for him to actually succeed at something… She frowned and winced slightly at the pain it caused. Stupid Mr. Todd…

There weren't many people who would have been disappointed because someone _hadn't _taken advantage of them while they were drunk but not many people were as desperate, lonely and disillusioned as Mrs. Lovett was.

She leant against the laundry tub and sighed miserably. She had never felt less attractive or more frustrated. What did she have to do to make him come to his senses? He was probably as deranged as she'd always feared he would become. What other explanation was there?

Sadly, the thought that her would-be lover was quite possibly mentally unstable did not comfort her.

--

Mr. Todd had to congratulate himself on his success in not shagging Mrs. Lovett. What gentility, what class, what abstinence! And he could have so easily done it…shag her that was. He'd been so strung out and she'd been flailing her legs in the air. A lesser man would have found it all too much and ravished the woman… Yes, he definitely deserved a pat on the back for his wonderful ability in _not _ravishing Mrs. Lovett… The determinedly forced smiled slipped off his face as he stood staring at the collapsed barber chair and the crumpled mess below.

So why, if he'd acted so honourably, did he feel so wretchedly deflated? He should have felt proud for his will power and triumphant for his victory but he felt strangely apathetic and flat. Mrs. Lovett was all moody and sulky about losing and he was beginning to think maybe he should have just shagged her so he'd actually have gotten something out of the whole affair.

"Stop it." He told himself sternly as he raised his barber chair up from depositing the latest barber customer to Mrs. Lovett's domain below. "You are _not _attracted to her. You're just tense. Really, really tense…" He had to keep himself away from that woman. How could he honour his dead wife when she was swanning around, bust popping out, eyes batting, skirts hitched? It made the whole affair rather perverse… The whole prospect of avenging his wife while sleeping with another woman was completely absurd…

He moved to the dresser to clean his razors and as he did caught sight of his face in the mirror. Outwardly he looked as grim, brooding, unemotional as ever but inwardly he was being torn apart by a million different choices. And the most torturous one of all: What to do about Mrs. Lovett? What to do, what to do, what to do…

He frowned and turned, beginning his usual pace back and forth across the room. If she agreed to assert his masculinity then he supposed he'd have to (grudgingly) drop his masculinity crusade. But then… there was still the problem of Mrs. Lovett's being so ridiculously alluring to him. Hmph. How did he deal with _that _problem?

After so many months of ignoring her quite successfully, why now was he dreaming about her like a dirty, old man…? How far he'd fallen. And even now, in broad daylight, with her safely hidden away and no real prompts, the thought of her wrapped around his waist like she'd been in the broom cupboard made his breath hitch a little in his chest.

"Uh," He groaned as the thoughts began to create tightness below his belt. So it was official, he couldn't think of her without wanting to shag her. Perfect… "That sucks." He said sulkily out loud.

"Who does?" Came a voice from his door.

Mr. Todd whirled around to find Mrs. Lovett at his door, clutching his usual lunch tray.

"No one," Mr. Todd squeaked, feeling his cheeks flush immediately as the words 'suck' and 'Mrs. Lovett' flashed in the same instance across his mind.

"Why are you talking to yourself?" Mrs. Lovett asked suspiciously, bringing the tray to his dresser.

"I'm not," He said through gritted teeth, as she nudged past him to place the tray and her hip grazed his thigh. "Why don't you ever knock?"

"I thought we were past that now," Mrs. Lovett replied mildly, moving back to the door. "What with having slept together twice-

"_Once_." Mr. Todd interjected irritably.

-And spending most of our time getting the other one drunk." She continued unabashed.

"And that makes it perfectly alright for you to burst in unannounced whenever you jolly well want to?" Mr. Todd replied coldly. "The only other person who seems to burst in as often as you do is Anthony and he only has half a brain."

Mrs. Lovett inhaled sharply. Being compared to Anthony in any way was a sharp insult indeed.

"Knock in future." Mr. Todd sneered, enjoying her look of stung bewilderment. "Now leave me alone."

She stood frozen for a few moments, hurt and confused but finally turned on her heel and exited, slamming the door with excessive force.

As soon as she was gone, Mr. Todd's smirk vanished and he collapsed into his barber chair.

--

Mrs. Lovett stormed down the stairs and through the hallway, tears threatening to fall and threw herself into the laundry as they began to tumble.

"It's not fair." She sobbed, sliding down the door and pulling her knees up to her chin.

She buried her head into her knees and let her tears shudder through her shoulders. It all seemed so pointless. All her flirting and attention and patience. He was back to angry, spiky bastard mode and she was back to square one. The pain of being rejected yet again when she'd thought he'd been retracting his defences a little was more severe than ever before.

She gave a shuddering breath and lifted her face a little from her knees. She could feel the tear stains heavy on her cheeks. What a state she was in: hung over, distraught from Mr. Todd's behaviour and reverting back to her depressed, lonely widow phase. God, why had she let herself believe it possible for a single moment for Mr. Todd to return her affection?

She rubbed her eyes dry and struggled upright. She was beginning to feel the first jabs of anger after her agony. It also happened like this. First she'd crumple in a fit of distressed misery and then, suddenly the fury would set in and she'd want to rip Mr. Todd's… privates off and staple them to his stupid head. That was about how she felt now. How _dare _he treat her like this?! What did he think this was? The 1820s? She was a strong, independent woman and if he needed to subjugate her to feel like a man… well then he was obviously a wanker. Hmph. Comparing her to _Anthony_. The nerve of him!

She strode from one side of the room to the other in a fit of badly suppressed infuriation. Her initial devastation at being unable to achieve his affection had morphed into fury at his resistance of her attentions and rejection of her attachment.

With her mind made up, she left the laundry and as briskly as she had come she left it, marching down the hallway and up the stairs with nothing on her mind but to give Mr. Todd what he deserved, a sharp tongue and a quick slap.

But as she rounded the corner to his door she collided with the barber himself and stumbled backwards with a surprised cry.

"Watch where you're going!" They both snapped in unison.

They saw whom they had walked into and both suddenly became strangely sheepish, Mr. Todd turned his usual shade of pink when he was embarrassed or awkward. Now that she was actually here Mrs Lovett's big plan to give Mr. Todd a piece of her mind had seemed to flop and become vaguely ridiculous.

"Uh um. Mr. Todd," She began to stammer, trying to inject some authority into her voice. "I have something to say. I don't appreciate the um… way you um…"

"Well?" He prompted her.

"Mmphm…" She trailed off weakly. Now that her blind anger was beginning to trickle away it was becoming harder by the moment to confront him. "I…"

"Well… while you're thinking about that…" Mr. Todd said impatiently. "I've decided what I want as _my _reward for winning."

Mrs. Lovett stopped fidgeting awkwardly and stared at him. She couldn't believe it. He was unbelievable. She could have strangled him if she hadn't been stunned by his ridiculous fickleness.

"I want a massage."

Mrs. Lovett had to admit. She didn't really mind the sound of _that_.

--

"God, Mr. Todd. You're like a bloody hump backed whale." Mrs. Lovett remarked as she ran her hands over Mr. Todd's bare shoulders, ten minutes later.

"Mmm." He replied offhandedly from his position on her living room settee, stomach down and topless. "Fifteen years of hard labour'll do that to you."

Mrs. Lovett pushed hard down on his tough, tense shoulders, trying to loosen them. He was horrendously tight all the way across his shoulders, back and neck.

"Ave' you ever had a massage?" She enquired casually, taking to her knees. What she really meant was: 'Did Lucy ever do this for you?' but not in so many words.

"No." He grunted into the settee, keeping his eyes closed.

Mrs. Lovett glowed inwardly with pleasure at the fact that she was the first massage he'd _ever _had and stupid Lucy had never had the chance to give or receive one from the barber! How perfectly delicious! She smirked slightly as she ran her thumbs down his spine causing him to give a small growl into the settee cushions. The sound made her shiver ever so slightly. She did so love to hear him growl… She wondered how else she could achieve such a reaction from him…

Using her hands as her weapon she ran them firmly but carefully down his spine to the small of his back and pushed her palms downwards and then out. He gave a groan and arched his back ever so slightly before lowering it again. Mrs. Lovett felt her chest react to his pleasured verbalisation by tightening and sending volts of desire down her spine. With her mind firmly on Mr. Todd's moans of pleasure she almost forgot she was hung over and supposed to be cross at him.

"You know, seeing as _I'm _the one who's hung over, _I _really should be the one getting the massage." She grumbled as she began to bring her hands back up to Mr. Todd's shoulders.

"Mmm. Can't hold your liquor." Mr. Todd mumbled causing her to push down on his back with unnecessary vigour. Mr. Todd gave a choking groan beneath her hands. "Careful!"

"Sorry." Mrs. Lovett replied sweetly, trailing her nails over his ribs. She could feel his skin shuddering slightly under her cold fingers as she ran them lightly over them one by one but she could tell it wasn't from disgust.

The most satisfying part was that while Mr. Todd believed he was subjugating Mrs. Lovett into massaging him like his personal assistant _she _was the one making him groan in fierce pleasure as her hands pressed over his bare skin. And she was sure she could make him do more.

"So why this?" She asked him as she worked into his shoulders.

"Mmm?" He replied, eyes still closed.

"Why a massage?" She prompted him, leaning further over him to reach the incline between his shoulder blades, her torso very close to his back.  
He jerked slightly under her fingertips but at her question or the contact of her hands in the space between his shoulders she didn't know. "I just felt like it." Was his cool reply and he moved his face pointedly away from Mrs. Lovett who felt a faint pang of hurt but shooed it away.

She worked on extracting from him that shuddering groan she loved hearing so much. She slowly moved her hands down his back, her hands skilled and well honed from her years as a baker, rolling and moulding dough.

"Gods… there… there…" Mr. Todd gasped as she continued her route downwards. "Keep going…"

"Yes, dear." Mrs. Lovett said mildly, whilst smirking to herself. She continued her journey down his back, enjoying every noise of pleasure she drew from the barber's pale lips.

Mr. Todd didn't entirely know why he'd decided on a massage. He supposed it had seemed like a tactic to both place Mrs. Lovett firmly in the 'attendant' role while also, guiltily satisfying his unexplainable and wholly unnerving need for her touch. He could feel her warmth above him, her chest mere inches from his bare skin. He could hardly communicate how blissful it was, laying there on the softness of the settee with Mrs. Lovett's skilled hands working firmly over his stiff, damaged back and shoulders. Occasionally her nails would graze his skin and an involuntary shiver would run down his spine. The pent up tension which had built up in most parts of his tired body were finally being attended to… well in some places if not in others…

There was still that faint ache down below that he seemed unable to rid himself of. No matter how hard he tried… Somewhere deep down (though in this case slightly higher than his crotch) he knew that Mrs. Lovett could have relieved him of his painful desire but he was still a proud and unyielding man, a man who had sworn to avenge his wife in any means necessary and a man like that didn't admit his attraction to the woman he had spent most of the last few months asserting his indifference towards… But… at the same time he really, _really _wanted to have her… But he didn't want _her _to know that… and he didn't really want to admit it to himself. Whenever the fantasies came dancing across his bored mind he'd chase them away and send baker-shagging Mr. Lust squealing down the road, pursued by angry, abstinent Mr. Self-denial, wielding a pickaxe. It was the way it had to be, even if she looked at him with those sooty, melting chocolate eyes and batted them while running her slender, long fingers over his vulnerable, hungering skin….

"Urgh." He moaned and his eyes shot open. Oh dear… he really shouldn't have been thinking about that while receiving a massage from the very woman he was supposed to not want to shag.

"Alright, Mr. T?" Came her voice, slightly breathless from her work.

"Ye-es." His voice broke at a most inconvenient time.

"Ok then." Came her sweet reply, as her hands moved to the small of his back. "Tell me if you want me to press harder."

Mr. Todd inhaled sharply at the word 'harder' and tried to concentrate on something non-provocative. Something that didn't include Mrs. Lovett straddling him and- NO. Ok. He was not going to think about that… He cast his mind wildly for something to focus on. Like…hats… What was provocative about hats? Nothing. Hats. He was thinking about hats. Hats… Hats with bows and feathers and ribbons… like that one Mrs. Lovett sometimes wore to market… It had lace on it… He wondered vaguely if she wore anything else with lace on it and his eyes widened. He was really quite terrible at this… A couple of months ago he barely looked at Mrs. Lovett let alone have… _those _thoughts about her and now he could barely stop them from invading his already damaged mind every time he let it wander.

He absentmindedly closed his eyes, letting Mrs. Lovett's well-practised hands wash over him. With a tired sigh, he sunk his head lower into the settee cushions.

"Penny for your thoughts," He heard Mrs. Lovett remark, as her hands moved to his hips.

"Since when do we share thoughts." He spoke into the settee, feeling too relaxed to snap at her.

"Since now." Mrs. Lovett replied half-heartedly, knowing that it was very unlikely that Sweeney Todd would confide his thoughts to anyone. He just wasn't the confiding type of guy.

"Mmm." Was his response, but she knew him too well to be disappointed by his refusal to disclose his thoughts to her. Instead she amused herself for a while with the image of Mr. Todd sobbing onto her shoulder, empty chocolate wrappers at his feet and a lacy, pink dressing gown covering his drab, greying work shirt. She couldn't help snorting slightly.

"What are you sniggering at?" He demanded immediately. God, he was such a domineering cow sometimes…

"Jus' somethin' I heard at market is all…" Mrs. Lovett replied calmly, keeping her eyes down as she rubbed firmly into the area over his kidneys. She could see his skin retracting slightly from the sudden cold of her fingertips accompanied occasionally by a grunt from Mr. Todd.

"Arg." He growled as she pushed into the sensitive area. "You're going a bit low, aren't you?" The last thing he needed was more attention to… that area…

"Mmm… yeah…" Was Mrs. Lovett's offhanded, unconvincing reply. She had reached the band of his well-worn trousers and she would have loved to go further down but that would entail shoving her hands down Mr. Todd's trousers, something the barber would most likely not appreciate.

So, slightly disappointed but resigned she returned her hands to the higher regions.

Mr. Todd relaxed slightly under her fingertips as she moved away from the area that was causing him so much grief. Constant, dull throbbing which never ceased and which was worse now than ever before. He was worse than a male horse having its mane brushed… At least he was laying face down. That was the positive he supposed, although if he let himself get too relaxed, it might get to the point (no pun intended…) where he'd have to use a cushion just to get out of the living room unnoticed. Mrs. Lovett had sharp eyes and if she spotted anything like that, he'd never hear the end of it… she'd make sure of that…

Meanwhile Mrs. Lovett knew Mr. Todd still hadn't relaxed completely. She could feel he was still keeping some tension in his form as she massaged his shoulders and she wondered why he always had to keep himself so stiff. It was as if he was afraid to relax.

"Am I getting to the trouble spots?" She enquired of him as she worked.

"Well…the left side's a little worse than the right…" He replied distractedly, head still facing away from her.

Mrs. Lovett couldn't reach the left side as easily as the right. She tilted her head slightly, wondering how she could tend to his left side as easily as the right without causing herself too much discomfort. Then it came to her and triumphantly (although admittedly a little thoughtlessly…) she threw one leg over Mr. Todd's bare form and placed herself over him with one knee either side of him therefore keeping herself fairly erect but able to massage both his shoulders equally without straining herself. It was genius really. Except that she immediately realised Mr. Todd had not expected her to jump onto him like this, when he bucked like a horse underneath her in shock. She fell back slightly, but kept herself firmly on top, thighs gripped tightly around him.

"What are you doing!?" He spluttered.

"Oh… well… it seemed like a good idea at the time…" Mrs. Lovett said faintly, suddenly feeling extremely foolish.

"…" Mr. Todd was speechless. Mrs. Lovett cringed, she had actually managed to do yet something else to either infuriate or alarm him.

In reality, Mr. Todd was enjoying her warm weight much too much for his own comfort. Or he was doing so unintentionally… which in a lot of ways was much worse when you didn't have apparent control over your own bodily functions. It was as if she _knew _he was struggling with this involuntary stimulation… but how could she? He had made it as clear as humanly possible to her that he thought nothing of her so how could she have possibly guessed what was happening currently below his belt buckle? Unless… he was showing… A wave of cold dread washed over him. Could she see from where she was standing his discomfort and arousal? Was it possible…? He squirmed uncomfortably on the settee, grinding his crotch into the split between the two seat cushions and hoping and praying that she wouldn't notice. Unfortunately she was sitting on the small of his back and his shifting movement to slot himself between the cushions was causing her to jolt oddly up and down on his back like the contender in a bull-riding competition.

"Mr. T! Can you not!" She snapped at him.

"Well so-rry! _I_ wasn't the one who jumped on the back of an innocent massage… getting… person." He spluttered at her, standing up so abruptly she tumbled down his back and landed unceremoniously on the settee behind him.

Mr. Todd scrambled upright and brushed himself off furiously, blushing fiercely and feeling intensely humbled. He snatched up his discarded shirt to hide the embarrassing… formation on his front.

"Sometimes you really are a wonder to me, madam." He snarled, jabbing a finger at her immodest figure crumpled into the corner of the settee. "The things you do sometimes are what no other self respecting woman would dare. And close your legs! What are you?!"

Mrs. Lovett stood up indignantly, throwing her skirts down crossly as she went. "You're unbelievable! I give you a massage, which you demanded, and that I did out of the kindness of my own heart and you're carrying on like a spoilt child at Christmas! I make _one_ mistake and you lose your temper and carry on like this!"

"_You_ carry on like a mad woman!" He burst out. "I wont have this in my-

"_Your_!" She repeated shrilly. "_Your _house!? This is _my _house, Mr. Todd and if you wish to keep living in it I think maybe you should give me some respect!"

He gave a wild, humourless laugh. "Respect! Respect to the woman who acts like she's no higher than a street girl and doesn't have the self restraint to keep off a man while tending to him!"

"I DID IT TO BE HELPFUL!" She roared at him, now past all restraint. Her eyes were flashing with fury, her face flushed red. "It wasn't for my bloody pleasure! If you think everything I do is aimed at throwing myself at you, Mr. Todd then you're more self obsessed than I could ever have imagined," With that she stormed from the room, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.

Mr. Todd stared after her, clutching his shirt and now feeling far from desirous. He felt cold, angry and affronted. _Self obsessed! _Him! He'd never heard such a ridiculous notion in all his life.

He irritably donned his shirt, no longer fearing of her notice and stalked from the room feeling entirely unsatisfied and miserable. It was that damn woman's fault. She was making him more messed up than ever before and it was all because of her wily ways and her lack of discipline. Her ridiculous lack of discipline! Why did it get to him so much in this one woman when all of London was practically crawling with lack of discipline… or respect for the traditional, ingrained gender hierarchy this woman seemed intent on ignoring.

He reached his barbershop, swooped inside and slammed the door in his usual 'angry-adolescent' fashion. He flounced to his chair and threw himself down into it. This morning it had seemed like he had once more held the cards but how could that be so when even when he was alone _she _invaded his mind and refused to let him rest?

--

With an abrupt jolt Mr. Todd awoke, which was strange because he didn't even remember falling asleep. He realised he had been woken up by someone knocking on his door. Soft, careful knocking that he'd never had the luxury of before in Mrs. Lovett's house.

"Come in." He heard himself call.

The door swung open accordingly and Mrs. Lovett (the last person he could have imagined to belong to the gentle knocking) came primly into his shop, dressed in a cotton dressing gown and clutching a breakfast tray with what he could see cream, honey, jam but no bread or tea to have it with… odd woman…

"I've brought you some breakfast, sir." She said breathily, batting her eyelashes at him as she approached with his tray. "I wanted to apologise for my silly behaviour last night. I should have known that a strong, masculine and ever-so-manly barber like you is always right and that I, a mere woman, should not have attempted to suggest otherwise."

Mr. Todd stared at her. Was he going batty… "That's alright..." He mumbled.

"Now. Let's have some lovely breakfast." She purred, placing the tray on a little table he'd never remembered being so conveniently placed next to his barber chair. "I bought it all in the market… for you."

Mr. Todd frowned. "Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Oh, _yes _daddy darling. I'm feeling simply _creamy _and please would you call me darling? Mrs. Lovett sounds so cold and formal on your lips… your gorgeous, well formed yet ever so masculine lips." She growled throatily, tracing one finger over his lips in a fashion he was sure she wouldn't have dared if she hadn't been so obviously delirious.

"Alright…eh _darling_." He humoured her, he thought it was best to until he could calm her or have doctor take a look at her.

"It sounds so natural on your lips, sweet thing." She gushed, bending forward to brush back his unwashed, matted fringe. "Now… sweetie-darling would you like some lovely breakfast?"

"Yeah, sure… anything you say." He replied weakly as she turned to the tray to ladle up a spoonful of cream, as she did he slipped away from his barber chair and sought a piece of paper and ink to write a note for the doctor for Toby to take as soon as he could manage it. This woman was obviously unwell.

"Do you like cream, jam or honey best, daddy darling?" He heard her breathless voice over his shoulder as he hastily scribbled the note.

"Um. Cream." He replied distractedly. He finished the note and folded it, wondering how he could take leave of her without angering her or arousing suspicion. He had to keep her talking until he figured out a way to do it. "Uh… 'darling'… what am I supposed to have the cream on? Shouldn't you better run downstairs and fetch some bread?"

"Oh _no_, darling. You shouldn't need bread!" She insisted from behind him.

"Why not?" He asked her.

"Because… we have everything we need for the cream, right here." Came her breathless voice.

He turned to her frowning. "What are you- Oh." He stared at her dumbstruck, immobilized and wide eyed.

Before him, dressed only in her bloomers and corset was Mrs. Lovett brandishing the cream and spoon with a breathy giggle so unlike the Mrs. Lovett he knew so well.

"Don't you just love it, darling?" She breathed, beginning to come towards him.

He was rooted to the spot, hardly able to signify what was happening in his brain but also _so _aroused by the prospect of what Mrs. Lovett was suggesting. The letter had fallen from his limp hand and his jaw had slackened a good few centimetres.

"What are you- _oof_," She had pushed him backwards and then roughly sideways to his barber chair where he was firmly planted underneath her weight.

"Mmm, _darling_." She smirked, taking in the intense desire in his eyes. "You want this don't you?"

Mr. Todd couldn't form the words in his mouth but he knew he should have been saying the word 'no'right now.

"You want me, don't you?" She demanded rolling against his hips and making him groan fiercely at the contact.

"N…" He rasped, the heated flush around his face and neck unbelievably hot and uncomfortable.

She threw her head back and trailed a spoonful of cream up her slender neck, letting it finish just on her prominent collarbone.

"Mmm… it would feel _so_ good, Mr. Todd…." She sounded more like the Mrs. Lovett he knew now. "You know it would… all you have to do is _taste _it."

He wanted to. God knew he wanted to. He wanted her so badly he couldn't have put it into words just how much but while the prospect itself of running his tongue over her skin enticed him almost beyond refusal, a slight flicker of guilt held him back from simply doing it and letting desire and pleasure take him. Lucy… Her face flashed momentarily over his mind.

"I can't," He whispered as she waited expectantly.

Her eyes moved slowly down to his, now intensely cold.

"Coward." She said frostily and shoved him roughly.

He gave a surprised jolt and the next moment he was alone, sitting in his darkened barbershop with neither the tray nor Mrs. Lovett to be seen. She had left one thing though… Mr. Todd realised as he glanced down and sighed.

--

"It was a stupid dream anyway." Mr. Todd remarked as he stared at his own reflection in his tarnished dresser mirror.

It _had_ been a stupid dream, the product of a warped and emotionally starved brain. What else could have transformed Mrs. Lovett into the air-headed wisp that had appeared in his dream? He wasn't sure he quite _liked _the dream Mrs. Lovett. Sure, it had been naturally appealing to be invited to lick cream off her neck but… in all honesty, she had been such a honeyed little idiot that really it wouldn't have been any real fun to shag her when she most likely would have simply smiled good naturedly and lain down for him. The _real _Mrs. Lovett had a tendency for squirming and wiggling about and making a great show of attempting to ward him off. And that idea of having the task of exerting power over her and making her submit… aroused him almost more than anything else. Hm. Perhaps not the healthiest of things. But on the other hand was murdering people and having them cooked into pies healthy in itself? Most psychologists would agree it wasn't the most constructive way to deal with pent up anger and frustration. But Mr. Todd didn't have a psychologist so… killing and cooking it was.

"Hah." He said putting his hands behind his back and turning on his heel away from the mirror. Strangely, he felt much calmer this morning. Like morphine had been slowly injected into his veins and was spreading over his body, relaxing every taut muscle in his body.

He wandered from one wall of the room to the other, hands behind his back and placed a hand behind his neck, feeling it tenderly. Since Mrs. Lovett's massage, his shoulders and neck had felt a lot less stiff. And after fifteen years, knots could really become a pain in the neck.

Mr. Todd chortled at his own pathetic pun and continued massaging his loosened neck, frowning out the window but in a… content fashion. Unlike many others Mr. Todd had the ability to frown contentedly. Just one of his many talents…

"Oh. You're awake." Mr. Todd turned slowly. Mrs. Lovett was standing at his doorway having let herself in as usual. Unlike her dream alter ego, Mrs. Lovett didn't knock on doors and her tray was devoid of cream, jam or honey, having only two pieces of plain bread and a murky cup of tea. She was also wearing not a sweet look of submission but one of icy resentment. "Here." She slammed the tray down on the dresser and turned to leave. Boy, she was pissed…

Mr. Todd watched her from the window. He had half expected her to fly at him and claw his eyes out. But she hadn't. She acted almost as usual except her usual smile and cheerfully brisk demeanour were gone to be replaced by eyes that could have slit throats in themselves and a mouth so sour it could have curdled milk. Mr. Todd almost apologised, he tasted the word on his tongue and almost let it slip from his lips before he kept it from doing so with a reminder that Sweeney Todd didn't apologise to anyone.

At the door, Mrs. Lovett stopped and turned abruptly and Mr. Todd's breath caught in his throat. She opened her mouth slowly as though considering what she was going to say but she almost immediately closed it again and with a cool look at him, left him, shutting the door with an angry 'snap' that seemed to be a blow to him in itself.

_End of Chapter Twelve_


	13. Sailor Boy

**Author's Notes: **Tsk tsk. Mr. Todd. --Shakes Head-- Well now. This is pretty short and sweet. AND I HAVE ANTHONY BASHING! MWA HA HA! I looooovett... I hope there aren't an die-hard Anthony fans because I tend to punish him whenever I have the chance XD

Mr. Todd has a deranged sense of humour ;)

... Sort of like me.

**Disclaimer: I own the DVD... does that count...**

Sailor Boy

Mrs. Lovett was not a woman to be meddled with. Her ex-husband had died under 'suspicious circumstances' and for the long, lonely years following she had been alone and brooding on the shadowy hope that the man she truly loved would return to her. Those frosty years of solitude had turned her into a hardened woman who few people would dare to cross. And, although she had an ingrained fear of Mr. Todd and his sadistic rage, she was willing to go head to head with him even if there was the chance she would find a razor across her throat. In those circumstances she had to rely heavily on Mr. Todd's need for her pies to ensure he didn't lose his temper (what's new?) and take it out on her jugular.

And it took a woman as in love with Mr. Todd as Nellie Lovett to put up with his exhausting frenzy of emotions. She had made a promise to herself that she would not give up on him so easily but continue to struggle against her violent accomplice even if it almost destroyed her. For as much as he infuriated her, frustrated her and drew her near to insanity the truth was that she was firmly in love with him and she couldn't have thrown him out any more than she could have cut off her own arm. She needed him too much, as much as that secret need tormented and humiliated her.

These thoughts found her two days following Mr. Todd's disastrous massage. She hadn't spoken to him since except on her periodical trips upstairs to deliver his meals. And even then it had been mostly made up of such things as: 'here you are' or 'hurry up with the meat' or 'stop doing that to my furniture' than anything truly substantial. Of course this was torturing Mrs. Lovett as much as it was apparently unmoving Mr. Todd. She was dying to apologise but she wouldn't let herself when she felt herself so firmly in the right. After all _she _hadn't been the one who had as good as called Mr. Todd a whore. _Why_ then should she apologise? She had taken serious offence to that quip. She had always prided herself on being as respectful as an unmarried, working woman living with a single man could be but Mr. Todd always managed to make out that she'd part her legs for anyone remotely male. It was pure degradation!

She slammed the sack of potatoes she had lugged in from the rain onto the kitchen floor with unnecessary force and kicked it crossly into the corner of her store cupboard. She was soaked to the bone, her hair lank with rain and her hem drenched with mud. She had walked the whole way to market alone, braving the wind and rain to fetch vegetables and it had served to worsen her mood considerably. It also served to make her wish she could blame Mr. Todd for the foul weather even though she knew that was childish… but she still wanted to do it…

Tiredly she slumped into her living room, kicking off her shoes and shrugging off her sodden shawl. Then, hesitating with a glance around the deserted living room she fingered her skirt thoughtfully. With a shrug she loosened the ties on her dress clumsily and after a bit of struggling managed to undo them and let her ruined apparel fall to the ground. Stepping out of it, dressed now in her corset and bloomers, she darted over to her favourite chair and threw a blanket over herself to hide her scant attire. Feeling considerably more comfortable she sunk back in her chair, pleased with herself.

She enjoyed this peace for about five minutes more before erratic knocking at her shop door ruined her contentment. With a frustrated glance at her mantelpiece clock she eyed her abandoned clothing. The thought of pulling that mud-splattered dress back on made her skin crawl. With a final decision, she stood up and tied the blanket like a toga around herself. It fell to her ankles and although you could see her bloomers through the split in the front it hid a great deal for a blanket. The knocks grew louder and with a roll of her eyes she hastily forced her shoes on and tottered through the kitchen.

She could barely make out the figure through the grimy shop window and down pouring rain and threw the door open for them without question. They scuttled inside and she closed the door again hurriedly to prevent the gale from dragging half of London's flora through her door.

"Ah! Bless you! I thought I was going to be swept away!" Came a plummy voice she heard all too often for her liking.

"Anthony." She said bluntly, not bothering with the formalities she would have done with almost any other person on the planet. "Why the devil are you walking around in the rain?" _Because he's an idiot. _Her brain answered her mouth's question.

"I've been meaning to talk to Mr. Todd for _weeks_." He said regretfully, shaking his liberal tresses and spreading mud and water onto Mrs. Lovett's floor. She narrowed her eyes irritably at him but refrained herself from aiming her broom at his head just yet. "But he isn't answering his door." He took a seat at her table without asking and stared around her kitchen.

"You actually bothered knocking?" She asked him coolly. "Usually you just burst in without any announcement or warning with no consideration for what Mr. Todd may be doing or occupied with." He didn't even seem to signify her quip.

"I would have but the door was locked," He went on matter-of-factly, his eyes returning to her from their journey around the kitchen. "And I…" He suddenly stopped, blinked and stared at her. "Mrs. Lovett, what are… you wearing…" It was an uncertain if brusque question.

Mrs. Lovett glanced down. Her blanket was still tied firmly about herself. "Nothing." She replied hastily. "Well _something_ naturally but… well… do you… eh like it? It's new. Um. Latest fashion from… eh… Rome…"

He was staring at her, looking quite alarmed as though wondering whether he'd entered a madwoman's den. "A-h… re-really." His eyes kept darting to the split in the blanket where her lace bloomers peeked through.

"You really should hurry with whatever you wish to say, dear. I was about to start dinner." Mrs. Lovett said flatly, put off by his treating her like a crazed lunatic.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." He jerked and tore his eyes from her bloomers. "I need to ask Mr. Todd for assistance urgently."

"I see. Can you tell me or is it only for Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett replied mildly, hoping he'd get her hint.

However, he was not the brightest of idiots and missed her pointed allusion.

"No no. Mr. Todd is the only one who'll do." He said hurriedly.

"I see," Mrs. Lovett said frostily, thoroughly displeasured by this rebuff. "Well you'll… you'll…" A dreamy look came over her face as she realised the wonderful prospect of irritating Mr. Todd quite thoroughly through this one stupid and dogged young man. "Why. Of _course_ you can see Mr. Todd, dear. In fact, I _insist_ upon it." She said sweetly. "I'm sure he's just asleep or… sharpening his razors." She knew perfectly well that he would have been avoiding Anthony with all his humanly capacity and the thought of ruining that for him was very satisfying.

She led Anthony into her living room.

"Why don't you sit down?" She said cheerfully.

"I-

"That's right. Sit _down_," She cut him off, pushing him firmly onto the settee and taking to her own favoured fireside chair. "Now. I'll call Toby and have him fetch Mr. Todd. I shan't dare do it myself, it would be ever so rude to leave you here, alone."

Anthony smiled weakly at her but didn't object.

"Toby, my love!" She called.

Toby appeared moments later and was ordered to bring Mr. Todd downstairs, much to his dismay. He obeyed however and scuttled out of the living room to do Mrs. Lovett's bidding.

--

Mr. Todd had been avoiding Mrs. Lovett since his massage and with good reason too. He could almost taste her anger every time she delivered his meals, slammed his food onto his dresser and marched back out again. Every time she did he winced slightly as though imagining his head being slammed into the dresser in a similar fashion. He knew such a tiny little woman shouldn't have alarmed him but she did and he admittedly preferred the idea of hiding away in his barbershop than facing her like a man. Facing her like a man sounded like a rather dangerous prospect to him and besides, he still harboured a hope that she would simply cool down and return to her normal state without making him degrade himself in any fashion.

Besides… it had hardly really been his fault at all. _She _had been the one who had accosted him and carried on like she did so why should _he _have to be the one to apologise? He wouldn't. It was pure and simple.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door causing him to jump at the unusual sound of someone actually bothering with this curtesy when they seemed to usually just barrel into his shop like it was a public intersection. A wild (and ashamedly hopeful) thought that it could be Mrs. Lovett flashed across his mind before he firmly shooed it away with the stern reminder that Mrs. Lovett _never_ knocked (apart from in disturbing dreams that we shall not speak of) whatever the circumstance.

With a melodramatic sigh he flounced across to the door and threw it open and it was a boost to his ego to have Toby fall back from the door with a shrill squeak of alarm when he did so.

"What do you want?" Mr. Todd rumbled in his most 'threatening-barber' sort of voice.

"Pl-please sir." Toby stammered, standing a good few feet back from Mr. Todd as though afraid the barber might try and make a grab for him. "Mrs. Lovett wants to see you."

"Really?" Mr. Todd asked eagerly before catching himself and adding. "Yeah… that's cool…" in his most unaffected, detached male sort of voice.

"Yes." Toby confirmed beginning to edge away; obviously believing he'd done what he'd set out to do and was now determined to escape.

Mr. Todd would have asked why Mrs. Lovett wanted to see him but Toby had already scuttled away as fast as his legs could carry him. Mr. Todd rubbed his stubble-less chin thoughtfully, wondering whether Mrs. Lovett had called him down to apologise to him. As unlikely as it sounded it wasn't impossible. Maybe the two days of solitude and cold-shouldering had broken her. She was after all a _woman_… they really were such emotionally frail creatures, obviously his ignoring her had been affecting her more than she had let on. Ha! He knew she'd come to her senses sooner or later. It had been inevitable really. It had so obviously been all her fault.

He cackled to himself as he began his way downstairs. As he reached the stairs he realised his usual stride had transformed into a bit of a strut unintentionally, a result of his apparent victory over Mrs. Lovett.

He reached the living room; fully expecting Mrs. Lovett to throw herself onto him through storms of anguished tears, pleading- no _begging _for forgiveness and instead received a horrible shock. What was _that_ doing on his settee…

"Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett greeted him with a serene, nonchalant countenance but her eyes were dancing with triumphant glee.

Mr. Todd stared at her and then an Anthony, trying to keep his nose from wrinkling. "What." He said sulkily, feeling extremely disappointed that his theory had proved false.

"Look whose come to visit us." Mrs. Lovett said coolly, while her eyes were screaming '_Look! It's that sailor boy who frustrates you beyond belief! Who you spent all morning purposely avoiding and who I just invited freely into my house! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"_

He gritted his teeth, hating her with all his being but also trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him affected by her trickery.

"Indeed." He replied calmly, forcing himself to nod to Anthony who had sprung up on his entrance and had scurried up to Mr. Todd in his usual erratic Chihuahua fashion.

"Mr. Todd!" He yelped. "Mr. Todd! Oh! Finally! I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks- _months_!"

Mr. Todd stared back coldly at him. "I'm sorry if my having a job inconvenienced you." He replied pointedly, pushing past Anthony and with an icy glare at Mrs. Lovett, sitting primly in her chair, taking a place by the empty grate, leaning against it and sulkily crossing his arms. He would get her back for this one…

"Now, Anthony dear. You can have Mr. Todd _all _to yourself." Mrs. Lovett said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Mr. Todd and getting to her feet.

It was at this point Mr. Todd suddenly noticed Mrs. Lovett's scant dress and did a double take, his eyes widening. What had they been _doing _down here…? He stared at Anthony and then at Mrs. Lovett. No… no no no. She wouldn't have done _that_ just to spite him…. Would she? No. She wouldn't have… It was impossible; the boy irritated her just as much as he did him. Unless… she had been doing what he had been doing and hiding his true feelings under the cover of frosty indifference…

He narrowed his eyes at Anthony. _Bitch. _Well. He just bought himself a place on Mr. Todd's 'People To Kill Before I Die' list. He was making good progress so far.

"I've wanted to speak to you for such a long time, Mr. Todd," Anthony said eagerly, apparently oblivious of the tension between Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. "It's about something of great importance-

"Where are you going, Mrs. Lovett?" Mr. Todd asked sharply, not hearing a word of what Anthony had said.

Mrs. Lovett turned to him. "To get dressed o' course," She replied, surprised. He rarely questioned her actions. He rarely cared…

"Why would you need to do that?" Mr. Todd asked coldly as though he hadn't noticed she was dressed only in her underclothes and a blanket.

"My clothes got wet-

Mr. Todd inhaled sharply.

-in the rain…" She finished, frowning, as she stood frozen by the far wall.

Mr. Todd narrowed his eyes at her. "_Liar_," He said under his breath, he was being gripped by something colder than vengeance and more unpleasant than guilt.

"Mr. Todd!" Anthony said urgently. "There's a girl who-

"And you answer the door dressed like that?" Mr. Todd demanded, still leaning unaffectedly against the grate but barely containing the infuriation below the surface.

"Mr. Todd, as this is _my house_, I believe I have the right to do as I please." Mrs. Lovett replied coldly and turned to leave.

"So how do you account for your dress being on the floor!?" Mr. Todd said in a strangled voice, shooting upright from the mantelpiece. "_Ha!?_"

Mrs. Lovett turned slowly to him, eyebrows raised. "Who are you? My mother?"

"_Mo_- Mr. Todd cut off resentfully.

Anthony glanced between the two; he was jiggling nervously from foot to foot. "Mr. Todd," He said loudly.

Mr. Todd didn't move or look at him; he was glaring at Mrs. Lovett who was glowering back, her eyes smouldering with haughty resentment.

"Mr. Todd." Anthony continued. "There's a girl who-

"Just admit it," Mr. Todd snarled, beginning to stride towards her. She fell back, looking slightly alarmed. "You were… were-were _with _him, weren't you?"

Mrs. Lovett was against the wall; she looked terrified and evidently had no idea what he was talking about. "Wha-what," She stammered, eyes wide.

"How can you be so… _low_…" He hissed, coming towards her so that he was bare inches from her, his hand held up threateningly to her face.

"Get away from me," She breathed, slapping away his hand.

It only served to increase his anger; he pushed his hand up to her neck, forcing her head back and her throat up. "Don't test me," He snarled into her ear, now firmly pinning her against the wall. He could see the fear in her eyes and it both excited and sickened him to notice how the arousal increased with her alarm.

"MR. TODD!" Anthony half shouted, appearing at Mr. Todd's side, seeming unfazed by the fact that the panting Mr. Todd had Mrs. Lovett pushed violently against the wall. "There's a girl who I-

"And _you_," Mr. Todd had released Mrs. Lovett and turned on the boy so abruptly that Anthony had toppled backwards and splayed on the floor, looking startled. "How can you dare to ask me a favour when you-

"I-I swe-swear Mr. Todd… I didn't do anything." Anthony spluttered, looking like he expected Mr. Todd to dive on him and wring his neck at any moment. "I didn't _mean _to do anything…"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Mr. Todd bellowed, completely hysterical by this point. Mrs. Lovett was still crumpled by the wall, fearing for her life. When Mr. Todd lost control, he _really_ lost control.

"Mr. T.…" She began before he whirled back to her and dragging her by the wrist threw her down onto the floor next to Anthony, her blanket catching on the edge of the settee and being dragged off in his passion.

She gave a shriek as she was thrown roughly down next to the terrified sailor boy. Dressed only in her underclothes and completely defenceless, she was beginning to think that maybe this hadn't been the _best_ idea.

"Mr. Todd…" She trembled. "Whatever you think I've done I-

"SILENCE!" He hollered at her, reaching for his razor holster.

Mrs. Lovett and Anthony's eyes widened horrified in unison and they scrambled backwards to come into contact with the wall. They were trapped.

"I'll teach you to meddle with me, boy," Mr. Todd rumbled, beginning to walk slowly towards them, razor gleaming in hand.

Anthony burst into tears. "I'm so-sorry!" He sobbed. "Pl-please do-don't ki-kill me! I promise I-I'll ne-never bother yo-you again!"

Mr. Todd laughed wildly. "You won't have the chance!"

Then, driven hysterical with fear, the boy scrambled desperately around Mr. Todd's legs as he was bearing down on him and made a frantic escape from the living room, bawling noisily the entire time. The shop door swung and slammed shut and silence rang through the house.

Mr. Todd began to laugh. Mrs. Lovett stared at him; still believing she was about to die. Was this it? Had he completely lost his marbles? As his laughter became louder and more uncontrolled she believed it quite possible…

"Ah… did you see his face…" Mr. Todd wheezed, still laughing. He fell onto the settee, heaving with glee and Mrs. Lovett began to pick herself up off the ground, barely daring to believe that she was still alive.

"Mr. Todd…" She ventured tentatively, coming around the settee.

Mr. Todd looked at her and smirked. "I don't think Mr. Hope will be bothering us any more."

She could have killed him…

_End of Chapter Thirteen_


	14. Lessons and Lists

**Author's Notes: **_We've just been introduced... I do not know you well... but when the music started, something drew me to your side... --_Sways-- This one is based on that awesome scene from _The King and I: _'Shall we dance?' XD Not necessary to have seen it, however if you want to take a peek you can search 'Shall we dance?' on Youtube :P

**Lol thought I better add in a little warning lol... the first part is a little... 'abrupt'. Defs not for kidlets :P I left it in against the warning of my 'editor', Alice. It's a bit different to what I usually do lol... I'm generally pretty strait-laced but you know... first time for everything... :P Anyways, I hope that doesn't discourage you ;)**

**Don't own a thing.**

Lessons and Lists

Mr. Todd hurtled into his barbershop and slammed the door behind him. Swinging wildly into his barber chair he loosened his trousers hastily, yanking at the belt so violently that the buckle (already loose from wear and tear) snapped right off the belt. Mr. Todd didn't care. He tossed it aside and pulled the trousers down to his thighs. With a shuddery intake of breath he slid his trembling hand around what had been torturing him almost ceaselessly for more than a week. No matter how many times he pleasured himself it would come back almost immediately after but it was better than suffering in silence.

Throwing his head back he gave a grunt as the pressure and heat began to increase between his legs.

"Urgh… Mrs. Lovett." He groaned, bucking against his hand as though it was her relieving his tension and not himself… "_Yes_."

He arched his back against the warm gush of relief, trying to stifle his shrill moan of satisfaction.

He relaxed in the barber chair, lowering his back and attempting to steady his haggard, uneven breathing. Removing his hand from between his legs, he yanked up his pants, shuddering slightly at the sticky discomfort left behind. Even now he felt unsatisfied. The brief relief lasted barely long enough to enjoy. With a deep sigh of frustration he pushed himself to his feet and waddled bowlegged to his dresser to fetch a clean pair of trousers.

--

Mrs. Lovett sat down on Sunday morning, resolved to do something she had been thinking about doing for a while since Mr. Todd's masculinity mania began. She had continuously put it off, continuously put it from her mind but she felt now was an ideal time to do it. The shop was closed and she couldn't think of anything pressing on the chores front.

So taking up a piece of hot pressed paper and an ink pen she laid it down on her kitchen table and took a seat behind it, admiring its unmarked brilliance. Picking up the ink pen she wrote in large, if slightly clumsy letters (she had never been a particularly attentive student and girls were only considered to need to know the very basics): _Mrs. Lovett's List Of What Makes Men Manly_. She accidentally left a blot after the word 'manly' and tried to smudge it out, making it much worse in the process. She tilted her head… it sort of looked like she'd written 'ManlyoO'… but it'd have to do.

She paused, thinking over what she could write. She had considered the subject before so she had a fairly clear idea of what she could start it with…

_A man should not be afraid to show emotion…_

Yes. That would be a good beginning. After all, if there was one thing Mr. Todd was terrified of above all else, it was showing emotion. And in Mrs. Lovett's mind visible fear was visible weakness, so therefore in a… tweaked sort of way… Mr. Todd was showing weakness through this fear…

Mrs. Lovett cocked her head slightly to the side as she savoured this theory. It was imperfect but not completely ridiculous. Satisfied, she took pen to paper again.

_A man should be confident in himself; chronic insecurity is a chronic turn off to women…_

_A man should not sulk and carry on like a two-year-old when they don't get their own way…_

Mrs. Lovett snorted as wrote the last one. Mr. Todd seemed unable to keep from having a tantrum when he was denied what he wanted. It was rather off-putting. No woman wanted to feel like she was living with a spoilt child when they were actually living with a full-grown man.

_A man should… _

She paused again, pen poised between her teeth. What did she want Mr. Todd to be? Sensual? Yes. Passionate? Yes. But you couldn't breed passion into a passionless wretch and all men had sensuality, even if it was mostly confined to their trousers… What she wanted was… him to give her the attention he seemed to give everyone and everything else freely. Even his dead wife got more attention than Mrs. Lovett and she was… well, dead… supposedly…

_A man should be…_

Unselfish? Lavish? Tender? None matched well with Mr. Todd's cold, indifferent outer shell and troubled, deteriorating inner.

_A man should be able to…_

She paused.

… _dance._

--

"Read it and weep." Mrs. Lovett slapped her finished work onto Mr. Todd's dresser, ten minutes later.

Mr. Todd stared at her. "What is this? A will? Are you going to leave me a nice, plump inheritance?"

"Mr. Todd. Was that an attempt at… a _joke_?" Mrs. Lovett smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "I think I prefer you complaining and sulking than attempting humour. I've had too much experience with your warped sense of humour, love."

Mr. Todd rolled his eyes at her and wandered over to her paper. "Still going on about that Anthony incident are we? It's in the past, try moving on."

"It was yesterday!" Mrs. Lovett burst out.

Mr. Todd didn't reply, he was reading the paper, brow furrowed. "Manlyoo… what the hell is that?"

"_Manly_, dear, _manly_." Mrs. Lovett said irritably, as he turned his eyes back to the paper.

Mrs. Lovett waited patiently by the door, hands on hips and eyes watching to see his reaction. But Mr. Todd was a hard man to read, emotion rarely played across that haggard and cold countenance.

"_Dancing_." He remarked dubiously. "Dancing makes men masculine?" He glanced at Mrs. Lovett standing calmly at the door.

"Women respect a man, Mr. Todd who doesn't have to brandish a sword… or a razor… to think himself manly." She replied coolly, leaning against the door and crossing her arms.

Mr. Todd raised an eyebrow. He looked doubtful but also… thoughtful… although wondering whether he'd just stumbled upon the mystery solution to his masculinity woes. He read the list again through and then with a small shrug picked it up and handed it out to Mrs. Lovett.

"I don't need advice from a woman on how to be manly." He said icily.

Mrs. Lovett snatched it from him haughtily. "It's that attitude, Mr. Todd which will see you unbedded for the next forty years." She stalked out of the shop, leaving Mr. Todd feeling very unsatisfied and uncertain.

--

Mrs. Lovett undressed for bed that night feeling more irked by Mr. Todd than usual. She stepped out of her dress and loosened her corset with a glad sigh as her stomach was released from its cruel suppressant. She let her hair out of its pins and searched for her nightdress among the discarded clothes that accumulated on her bedroom floor and furniture. She found it and pulled it on.

Dumping her clothes onto a chair, she fell into bed emotionally exhausted from her efforts to pull herself closer to Mr. Todd to only be rebuffed again. Stupid, insufferable man! She sighed huffily beneath the covers as she lay there, staring at the ceiling and brooding on the wretchedness of being alone. If only she could see into his mind, then she might be able to please him.

She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, blowing out the candle on her bedside table as she did. Mr. Todd's face swam before her eyes, as she lay there, silent and morose. It was wretched being alone. It was hopeless trying to make someone love you who didn't. Mrs. Lovett had more experience of that than most.

She felt an unintentional tear slide slowly down her cheek and pool on her ear lobe. Then another followed it and soon they were falling steadily from her eyes and she made no effort to stem the flow. This was not the first time she had cried over Mr. Todd and it wouldn't be the last. Hot, anguished tears of frustration often fell on her cheeks when she was alone and brooding on the apparent impossibility of gaining Mr. Todd's affections.

After a few, self pitying moments she dried her eyes and turned on her front, burying her head into her pillow. She was tired and emotionally ruined… she needed to sleep…

--

An hour later she was still painfully awake and tossing frustrated from side to side. The covers seemed to clutch uncomfortably on her bare legs and the sheets seemed hot against her skin but every time she threw the covers off the icy slap of night air had her dragging them back on seconds later.

Glancing irritably at her bedside clock she wondered whether she should give up on sleep and go to the kitchen for a nightcap. It was two am… if she was careful she should have been able to avoid waking up Toby… or the Grinch…

With her mind made up she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stumbled blindly to find her dressing gown. Unfortunately she misjudged the distance between her chair and her bed and walked straight into it, swearing furiously as she massaged her bruised shin. After she had managed to lessen the pain, she began to bury through her clothes. She felt for any sign of the soft, worn cotton of her dressing gown but after five or ten minutes she still hadn't found it.

With a cross grunt, she pushed the clothes she had been rifling through roughly onto the floor and stumbled back over to her bedside table, searching for matches. It was useless trying to search in the dark.

As she was fumbling with her candle and holder, she heard a distant creak on the stairs and froze. After a few minutes of listening fiercely for the sound of footsteps she returned to hunting for matches. She threw open her drawer and rummaged through it for any sign of the painted box she usually kept them in.

"Damn you… where are you?" She hissed, slamming an empty hairpin tin across the drawer with unnecessary force. She slammed the top-drawer shut and wrenched the second one open.

Suddenly she heard another creak outside her door and felt a twinge of unease in her stomach. She didn't like hearing noises in the middle of the night, the house was old and the thought of what lay below in the bakehouse always caused her a little pang when she was alone in the darkness. But, Mrs. Lovett was no damsel in distress and she was no idiot. She kept a carving knife in her bedside table like every other wise Londoner did and she made sure it was within arm's reach when she was in bed. It was this knife she leant for now in the vulnerable darkness. She found it under the neatly folded handkerchiefs in the second drawer and gripped it at her side. Then she slunk back against the wall, fully covered by darkness. If they had been planning to strangle her in her sleep they'd have another thing coming.

After a few torturous minutes of standing in the dark, breathing as lightly as she could possibly manage and waiting for her uninvited visitor to enter she heard the door creak open and she felt her knees weaken slightly in fear but gave herself a mental shake. She could just make out a figure in the darkness, coming towards her bed. She watched them pass her and approach the bed, leaning forward over the empty covers. Mrs. Lovett saw her time to act was now and slunk out of the shadows, eyes on the figure. She crept behind them as they held out their hand to the covers of her bed. After a slight hesitation, she shot her hand around their neck as she had seen Mr. Todd do countless times, and pressed the carving knife to their throat. She felt them tense under her grip.

"You'd best start talking." She hissed, forcing them upright and back from the bed. "I may not feel generous enough to just call the runners on you-

However before she had time to feel smug in her triumphant, the figure had jerked around against her arm and before she had time to defend herself, had thrown her down onto the bed, holding her down firmly one hand on each arm.

"Impressive, Mrs. Lovett. But next time maybe choose a weapon a little sharper than a garden spade." Came a cool voice from the darkness.

"_You_!" Mrs. Lovett burst out in outrage. "What… are you…?" She struggled against his strong grip. "You can let go of me now, you idiot." Her pelvis was pressed uncomfortably against his thigh and she was aware of her nightdress hitched up around her hips. "Get off!" She snapped, bucking against him and drawing from him an odd, strained cry. After that he couldn't get off her fast enough, scrambling to his feet and busying himself with her candle. Mrs. Lovett yanked her nightdress down crossly and got to her feet, feeling flustered and annoyed.

Mr. Todd managed to find the matches behind the bedside clock. He could feel his cheeks burning and didn't particularly want Mrs. Lovett to see his evident discomposure so attempted to prolong the lighting process as long as possible. Pressing the woman he spent most of his time fantasizing about to a bed when she was dressed only in a nightdress was perhaps the stupidest thing he'd done in a long time and all in the name of asserting his dominance. He could have just replied: 'It's me' but of course he had to wrestle her onto the bed and pin her to it. He cringed in the darkness and lowered a lit match to the candle.

Mrs. Lovett slammed the carving knife onto the dresser and it was satisfying to have Mr. Todd jump slightly as she did so. He scowled at her and blew out the match, letting it fall onto her bedside table.

"You should keep a sharper knife. Those carving knives don't even leave a smart." Mr. Todd said stiffly, touching his fingers over the area where her knife had been placed. There was a tiny scratch and nothing else. "Or even better, invest in a pistol."

Mrs. Lovett glared at him and put the carving knife back in her drawer. "It would have worked fine if I'd shoved it between your ribs, Mr. Todd."

"Ah. But you hesitated." Mr. Todd replied, his eyes glinting. "Never hesitate. That's something I learnt quickly, Mrs. Lovett."

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, yes. Whatever. Now what are you doing here?"

Mr. Todd looked away, feeling stupid and sheepish. Mrs. Lovett stood before him, hands on hips.

"Well…" He gestured aimlessly. "I was… thinking about what you said…"

Mrs. Lovett looked quickly at him. "Yes?"

"And well…" He hesitated. "…Do women really think dancing is manly?"

--

"_Ouch, _Mr. Todd_. _Watch where you're putting your feet!"

Mr. Todd glowered at Mrs. Lovett as she led him pointedly in a lumbering, heavy-footed 'waltz' about her living room. The furniture had been pushed to one side, leaving a good space in the middle for Mr. Todd's midnight dancing lesson. Or midmorning rather…

"Look. Watch me." Mrs. Lovett said briskly, Mr. Todd's hands in hers. "One, two, three… one, two, three… one- _Ouch, you're on my foot…_ two, three… one, two, three… one, two, three…" Mr. Todd followed her clumsily, eyes fixed on his feet and feet treading uncertainly and inelegantly behind Mrs. Lovett's. He was obviously not made for dancing.

"It's… more of a smooth movement than that, Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett said patiently. "You step forward and then to the side-

"That's stupid." Mr. Todd snapped irritably. "How can anyone do this stupid dance…"

"Well, many people have mastered it in the past, Mr. Todd. So I assume it isn't impossible." Mrs. Lovett replied coldly. "Perhaps if you loosened up a bit and didn't grip onto my hands like a bird of prey on a rabbit you'd have more luck with the 'smooth' part of the equation."

Mr. Todd glared at her but loosened his grip slightly on her hands.

"And look up, at me." Mrs. Lovett continued.

Mr. Todd reluctantly dragged his eyes from his feet to Mrs. Lovett's face.

"And you know, you don't have to hold me at arm's length." Mrs. Lovett remarked, as Mr. Todd held her almost as far from his chest as possible.

"Well, well… one thing at a time!" He blustered, already feeling hot from the closeness between them.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. Mr. Todd ignored her. He wasn't letting her lure him into a state of false security and allowing himself to relax in her arms. If he did, he didn't know what would happen…

"Come on." He said hastily. "One, two three. One, two, three." He shook her hands impatiently. "Come on."

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly. "Ok. Forward, to the side, together. Forward, to the side, together-

"What happened to one, two, three?" He demanded.

"I'm dumbing it down for you." Mrs. Lovett replied shortly. "Now shut up."

She led him firmly in the dance, speaking aloud the entire time to guide him and steering him by his hands in hers. After a few rounds, he seemed to be getting the basics. "Ok. Now that you can do that, we'll try it with music," She left him and went to a wooden cabinet she usually kept locked. She unlocked it and brought out a dusty music box she hadn't looked at for a good few years.

"Ha. Haven't seen one of those in a while." Mr. Todd grunted as she fiddled with it on top of the cabinet. "Lucy used to have one."

Mrs. Lovett froze over the music box, feeling the usual cold rush of displeasure whenever her rival's name was spoken. But Mr. Todd didn't continue and after a few moments she returned to winding the music box.

"There we are." She said quietly, as the eerie, tinkling music began to fill the darkened living room. She found Mr. Todd staring broodingly into the fireplace, his back to Mrs. Lovett. "Mr. T?"

"Mmm?" He turned to her.

"Come on." She said bracingly, feeling misery welling up in her chest at yet again another reminder of Mr. Todd's darling ex-wife.

He came wordlessly to her arms and took her hands in his. "One, two, three." He said firmly, seeming to drag himself back into the present.

"One, two, three." Mrs. Lovett nodded, beginning to guide him forward. "One, two, three…" Mr. Todd's brow was set, he looked like he was about to perform brain surgery and not simply do the waltz.

"Relax!" Mrs. Lovett chided him. "Loosen up! You can't dance when you're as stiff as a board."

Mr. Todd cringed inwardly at the irony of this sentiment.

After a few, uncertain stumbles Mr. Todd gradually got into the rhythm of the music and relaxed his manner a little.

"Alright." Mrs. Lovett said at length. "We might as well try doing it properly now."

"Properly?" Mr. Todd said sharply.

"Yes. You don't think people dance like _this_ usually, do you?" Mrs. Lovett clucked, nodding at their clutched hands. "Like bloody folk dancers."

Mr. Todd didn't like where this was going. "What do you want from me?" He whined. "I'm 'effing dancing aren't I?"

"You most certainly 'effing' are." Mrs. Lovett replied with a smirk. "But you're dancing with me like I'm your grandmother."

Mr. Todd didn't reply. He was feeling very hot around the collar.

"Put your hand on my waist." Mrs. Lovett ordered him.

"What." Mr. Todd squeaked. "Do I have to?"

"Women like men who don't carry on like adolescent boys." Mrs. Lovett said pointedly as the barber flushed and fidgeted.

"_Fine._" He snapped, shoving his hand so roughly onto her waist, Mrs. Lovett jerked back. "What do I do with this hand?" He held his free hand up.

Mrs. Lovett raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you like."

Mr. Todd choked slightly and Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "In my hand, Mr. Todd. Put it in my hand."

He obeyed and they stood for a few minutes, admiring their position. They seemed to fit each other quite neatly in height and shape. Apart from being incredibly aroused, Mr. Todd thought he had done quite well to get this far.

"Alright." Mrs. Lovett breathed, secretly delighted to be so close to Mr. Todd in such an intimate position. "One, two, three…" Slowly and with a few lurches they began to dance. Mr. Todd was much better than Mrs. Lovett had originally thought and after a few turns he seemed to have it.

"So, you think this makes me manly?" He asked her as they turned.

Mrs. Lovett frowned at him. "Why is that so important to you?"

"Well, why is femininity so important to a woman?" He retorted smugly.

"It isn't." Mrs. Lovett replied. "I couldn't care less about it."

"Oh… well me neither…" Mr. Todd trailed off.

Mrs. Lovett raise her eyebrows at him in disbelief but decided not to taunt him. She was too tired anyway. The dancing lesson had sapped her of the energy she had had under an hour ago when she had been struggling to get to sleep.

"Mr. Todd… I think I might turn in." She said at length, as they came to a stop. "I have to get up early to open the shop."

But Mr. Todd did not remove his hand from her waist or make any movement to leave her. Mrs. Lovett was very aware of the closeness between them, the heat was beginning to rise in her cheeks. Mr. Todd was watching her with a strange look on his face, the usual troubled frown on his brow.

"Mr. T…" Mrs. Lovett hissed, as his grip on her waist tightened "What are you doing…"

Mr. Todd didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that he was pressed against Mrs. Lovett and he was full of burning, furious lust. He could have so easily forced her down onto the settee and had her right there… and more than half of him wanted to.

He leant forward slightly, his eyes fixed on her flushed lips and then caught himself just in time and dropped his hands from her waist and hand. He left her without a word. Mrs. Lovett watched him go, puzzled by his strange behaviour.

"It's the weather." She decided as she snuffed the candles and put away the music box. "The heat must be getting to him. He's only a slight, delicate little thing after all."

As she took herself off to bed she wondered whether Mr. Todd would want any further dance lessons. She certainly wouldn't mind if he did…

--

This couldn't go on…this daily torture. If he didn't have some sort of relief he was going to lose it. He had never been good at keeping his temper (or anything else) in control and he had a vague fear that if he kept swallowing his intense sexual arousal like he was, he'd explode and… well, it wouldn't be pretty. Meanwhile Mrs. Lovett was blissfully unaware that she was the object of his… sick attentions. Mr. Todd wasn't sure whether her ignorance was as vital as he had thought it was. In fact, he had a suspicion that the longer he let her believe he was indifferent towards her the greater the shock would be when he couldn't keep his feelings internalised any longer. And not to mention humiliating…

A disturbing flash of him forcing himself onto Mrs. Lovett flashed across his mind as he sat silently in his barber chair. Would he go that far? As he sat in the dark he was unsettled to find that he could no longer respond to that question with a confident 'no'.

_End of Chapter Fourteen_


	15. Jealous?

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the delay, folks. This chapter took me SO long to write because I kept putting it off and getting stuck and changing my ideas but hopefully this finished product does not disappoint. Bit of naughtiness but nothing too shocking. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Jealous?

"Oh, pay attention, Mr. Todd!" Mrs. Lovett snapped at the clearly daydreaming Mr. Todd as he stepped painfully on her foot for the seventh time that evening.

It was his second dancing lesson and to Mrs. Lovett's dismay he seemed to have actually worsened overnight rather than improved. And he seemed to be in a world of his own, his eyes were glazed over and evidently not watching what he was doing because every few moments he'd crush Mrs. Lovett's feet with his clumsy boots. Even when Mrs. Lovett reproved him he would nod vaguely and then fall back into his dreamy removal.

Up to this point Mrs. Lovett had felt she had been _very_ patient with the uncoordinated barber but her patience was waning rapidly. As far as she saw it, she was sacrificing _her_ quiet evening to coach Mr. Todd and he was being a right old berk about it.

"Mmm?" He grunted at her, not seeming really to be paying attention.

"Watch where you're putting your stupid feet." Mrs. Lovett said irritably, glaring at him as they stood in the middle of her gloomy living room in the carefully assembled dancing start position Mrs. Lovett had painstakingly mapped out.

"Alright." He frowned at her, seeming not to comprehend her anger.

Mrs. Lovett thinned her lips but refrained from snapping at him. Perhaps he was just a slow learner… although other bodily skills seemed not to have eluded him as dancing obviously did.

"Alright…" She sighed. "Try to keep in time, Mr. T…"

"I am." He said defensively.

Mrs. Lovett had to bite her tongue to stop from contradicting that claim. She forced a smile onto her face. "Well… let's keep practising just so it's a bit more… fluid…"

She was irked that he had the nerve to then be sulky as she tried to guide him around the room. He was being almost _reluctant_. How dare he be reluctant! _He _had been the one who had woken _her _in the middle of the night demanding dancing lessons! God, he made her cross, he really did…

"Keep your head up." She snapped, as his eyes travelled downwards to his lumbering feet.

He snapped his head up resentfully. "Fine."

Mrs. Lovett bristled. "You can't dance staring at your boots."

"I can try." He retorted argumentatively.

Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth furiously and then closed it again. She had to keep her temper…

"No. You can't." She said lightly. "You'll have to learn to dance without looking down."

He glowered at her. "This is stupid." He dropped her hands.

She stared at him. "What's wrong?" She asked quietly, feeling the anger inside her bubbling just below the surface, threatening to rise.

"I'm sick of dancing." He said resentfully.

"It's only your second lesson!" Mrs. Lovett said crossly.

"You make it such a chore." Mr. Todd said, pained. "Always snapping and snipping and bossing me about."

Mrs. Lovett turned pink. "How dare you. I've been trying to help you…" She said in a voice shaking with suppressed anger.

To her surprise he abruptly turned and stalked out of the room.

"Where are you going!" She shouted after him.

He ignored her and she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. She felt stung. All her effort and patience had been completely disregarded. She stood for a very long time in the middle of the living room feeling very cold and unhappy about the whole affair. When Toby came in to say good night she had to hurriedly pat her damp cheeks dry before she turned to him.

--

He hadn't meant to be so short with her. He hadn't meant to take out his suppressed sexual frustration on her (not even in the way he would have liked). He hadn't meant to be so damned ungrateful in the face of all her hard work… But he had and he knew he would never apologise for it. It wasn't his manner or his way. He simply did not apologise and if she expected one she'd be sorely disappointed. Not that he thought she expected anything from him anymore. She had been too disillusioned and hurt by him in the past to expect anything. If she knew the cause of his sudden anger she would understand… But she couldn't know. Not now. Not ever.

He gave an unintentional tremble at the word 'ever'. Could he even last that long…? He didn't think he could… But there really was no question about it… He couldn't have her and that was that. He was supposed to be avenging his wife… sleeping with Mrs. Lovett was not part of the plan… though it would be a lot more fun if it were…

He exhaled, frustrated and leant heavily on his dresser, head down and back arched. He was so damned confused… About Lucy… about Mrs. Lovett… about his masculinity… about his revenge campaign… about his secret, painful desire for a woman he shouldn't have been thinking about let alone lusting after…

He barely knew what he wanted anymore. His thirst for masculinity had been blurred by his thirst for Mrs. Lovett and his thirst for vengeance had been blurred by his thirst for… Mrs. Lovett… He frowned. It all came back to her really...

He looked up sharply, and caught his own reflection in the mirror. She was the root of all evil. She was the one who spurred his insecurities, his discomforts and anger. She was the one who he agonised over. It was all for her… _Damn her._ Why her? _Why? _She was no one. Nothing. Not half as beautiful as Lucy, not half as virtuous as Johanna… she was just a depraved baker whose laces certainly weren't as tight as they should have been and who only bordered _just _on what was decent without being thought of as a whore… She was only _just_ pretty… she couldn't do anything but cook pies and apparently dance the waltz… she infuriated him beyond belief with her nagging and quipping and jibing…

He slammed his fist onto the dresser in his aggravation. He couldn't pin point it. All he knew was that it was _her_ fault and he was suffering by _her_ doing…

--

Mr. Todd had to admit that he was finding it harder and harder to ignore Mrs. Lovett, as he should have been doing. On the contrary, he found he was attacking her more than ever because she was irritating him more than ever. Ever little thing she did seemed to niggle at him to the point where he found himself snapping at her continuously. Every time he did he saw her lips thin and her cheeks retract slightly as though she was biting back the retort she would have loved to hurl at him. That was a new experience for him. Usually she would slip into a stung silence when he snapped at her but lately rather than look affronted and hurt by his quips she seemed rather more resentful and sour. As though _she _was the one now putting up with _him _and not the other way round as it had always been. As though she was the one now looking forward to the time where she would be free of Mr. Todd's dramas. It needled him in a way. He didn't like the idea of her leaving him or not being dependent on him. An unhealthy sentiment perhaps but not one he could help. He didn't even want to help it. He just wanted her to do what he wanted her to do.

"Breakfast." She said abruptly, bustling into his barbershop without knocking as usual, three days after they had quarrelled. She was being decidedly frosty towards him, avoiding his gaze and not making conversation with him as she once had. She didn't come up to his shop unless she was bringing him his meals.

Mr. Todd didn't look up from his window. He kept his back to her, while he glowered down into the bustling London streets, keeping watch for vic- customers…

"Knock before you come galumphing in here." He shot at her over his shoulder. He heard her stop at the door on her way out, felt her icy gaze on his back. He closed his eyes, savouring the intense anger radiating off her that seemed to heighten his desire.

"_Yes_. Your _Majesty_." She replied at length in a voice dripping with resentful sarcasm.

She slammed the door behind her and the room shook slightly from the force. He didn't turn from the window but stood there still staring below without really seeing and fighting the urge to run after her and ravish her in the hallway.

--

Mrs. Lovett stomped down the stairs and down the hallway, seething with anger and having no outlet for it. She was furious at him. He was carrying on like a child… a _slow _child. She spun around the corner into her living room and almost collided with Toby.

"Toby!" She barked. "Watch where you're going, boy."

Toby peered at her, looking a little stung. "Sorry, marm." He mumbled.

Mrs. Lovett felt a sting of guilt and sighed inwardly. "That's alright." She said gruffly. "Get in the kitchen and make yourself useful, there's a good boy."

He nodded eagerly and scuttled away.

Mrs. Lovett stared around her living room, feeling depressed and apathetic. She didn't want to start her long day of retail but she knew she had to if she wanted to keep herself in ivory corsets. With a sigh she wandered into the kitchen, pasting her wide hostess's smile on her face as she went.

"Hello, dears." She said fondly to a couple standing in the corner, waiting to be served while Toby tended to another customer. "What can I do you for? I'll just fetch Toby for you; he'll sort you out. Toby!"

--

Mr. Todd watched the remains of his last customer slide slowly down into the depths of Mrs. Lovett's bake house with grim satisfaction. If there was one thing that was almost as fulfilling as bedding Mrs. Lovett it was slicing the throat of a smug Londoner and watching their corpse descend to be transformed from a fat leech of society to a practical source of food for the masses. It struck him as oddly ironic that only in death did these people actually help anyone.

Wiping the blade clean on his shirt, already thoroughly stained from the day's work, he strolled over to his dresser and placed his razor next to the others. He smirked at them laying in their neat formation, each one stainless, unbloodied despite their gory work. He was so emersed in gazing lovingly at the inanimate razors that he didn't hear Mrs. Lovett's stiffly formal knocks at the door.

After waiting patiently for at least two minutes, Mrs. Lovett decided she had every right to burst in and chide Mr. Todd for his disrespect.

"Mr. Todd. I understand you are going through a sulky bastard phase but would you be so kind as to let me deliver your meals so you don't starve to death." She said sourly as she bustled in.

Mr. Todd turned sharply. He didn't like being caught fawning over his razors. "I told you to knock…" He growled.

"I did." She said crossly, slamming his food onto the dresser beside his razors. "You were too busy brooding to hear me."

Mr. Todd felt his anger lessen a little in relief. Perhaps she hadn't seen him gazing at his razors after all…

"Fine. Well you can go now." He said carelessly, turning back to his razors.

Mrs. Lovett didn't move. "Pass me your breakfast things." They were still on the dresser from that morning.

Mr. Todd ignored her, keeping his gaze down but watching her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't move either, watching him through narrowed eyes. They seemed to have entered some unspoken stand off because neither was reaching for the empty bowl and tumbler.

"Give me the bowl." Mrs. Lovett said steadily, eyes fixed to Mr. Todd's unmoving figure.

"You get it, I'm busy." He replied, lifting a razor to his eyes and polishing it with his sleeve lazily. The empty bowl and tumbler were barely two inches from his side.

"Stop being so stupid." Mrs. Lovett snapped at him, putting her hands on her hips in her usual 'Go on, take me on, I dare you…' fashion.

"I'm not the one refusing to walk three feet to pick up a bowl." He replied silkily, not looking up. "Maybe you should take the chance to get some exercise…"

It has an empty jibe. Her slender figure was hardly in need of slimming down but he enjoyed the way her figure instantly stiffened beside him, a hand shooting to her stomach.

It did the trick. Moments later she pushed roughly past him to fetch the breakfast things, obviously livid. He watched her intently from where he stood, pretending to polish the razor but now seeming to have forgotten that he had been doing so. He had felt her thigh brush firmly against his front and he had swallowed the gasp of desire that almost escaped his lips. She gathered the breakfast things and turned to come back but Mr. Todd suddenly moved forward sliding an arm in front of her and then behind her so she was trapped between him and the dresser, clutching the bowl and tumbler. She turned her eyes to him, startled.

"Mr. T?" She said weakly as though afraid of what he might do. Mr. Todd himself had to admit; he wasn't sure what he might do.

Mr. Todd was very aware of how she was pushed against him, her upper thigh against his crotch, his chest pressed against her shoulder. He felt himself lean forward, his lips tracing the curve of her cheekbone to her chin but not quite daring to touch them on her skin. Her hair slid over his nose and he took in the smell of flour and perfume. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from groaning at the unbelievable pressure between his legs. Her head was turned to him now, a questioning frown on her face. She seemed to be reproving him with her eyes, or worse… mocking him. He abruptly released her from his arms and turned sharply away from her.

She didn't say anything. He heard her leave soon after, closing the door more gently than she had for days.

--

He wasn't going to speak to her.

--

He wasn't even going to _think _of her.

--

Hmmm… where was she with his breakfast…

--

Maybe he should check on her… No that was stupid. She was a grown woman for God's sake…

--

What was this… Was he reduced to getting his _own _bloody breakfast… God that _woman_. Where the devil was she?!

--

What if she was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs having been on her way _up _the stairs but suddenly, realising that Mr. Todd is attracted to her, stopped in shock and then slipped on a beetle that happened to be toddling across the step and fell backwards down the stairs and unable to break her fall with her hands (as she was holding his lovingly filled breakfast tray) landed on the floor and was knocked unconscious by the impact??? WHAT IF?!?!?!?!?!

--

But then again she could have just slept in.

--

Yeah, definitely slept in.

--

Perhaps… he should just go downstairs and wake her up… She'd be even angrier if he _didn't_ no matter how cross she was when he woke her.

--

But would it be weird bursting into her bedroom after very narrowly avoiding ravishing her the night before…?

--

Nah.

--

Mr. Todd rushed down the stairs, relieved to see that Mrs. Lovett was indeed _not _slumped unconscious at the bottom of the stairs after a run-in with a beetle, and spun around the corner into the deserted hallway. Hurrying along he hardly noticed Toby hovering at the kitchen doorway and instead turned into the corridor leading to Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. He barrelled through her door without knocking:

"Mrs. Lovett! I-

He came to an abrupt stop, and stared around with a frown. It was completely deserted. Her bed was neatly made, her dressing gown folded below the pillow. He was thrown. Where could she be? And more importantly, why hadn't she brought him his breakfast?

With a last look around the room, as though expecting to see sign of his accomplice somewhere in the room, he left, closing the door behind him as he went. He stood for a while outside of her bedroom, wondering where the baker was likely to be. She would most likely be doing her morning chores before she opened the shop… but in the laundry or in the kitchen…? He pondered, glancing down the hallway to where the laundry door was and then up to where the corridor leading to the kitchen was. With a half shrug he headed down to the laundry but found the door firmly locked. Mrs. Lovett _always_ kept it locked when she wasn't in it… He didn't know _why_ seeing as there was nothing in there but two very large tubs for washing clothes in and a copious amount of socks and shirts but she was possessive of her laundry and if they were ever broken into they could be assured that no one would ever be able to get into the laundry… which brought Mr. Todd back to the question of 'Who the hell would _want_ to?'. Oh well… He wasn't exactly known for his sense and sanity himself so… he supposed he'd let the fact that she locked her laundry for no good reason slide.

Turning from said laundry he headed back to the kitchen. The hallway leading to the stairs was still deserted and Toby was still at his post, hovering around the kitchen side entrance. Mr. Todd noticed him this time.

"What are you doing, lad?" He remarked, causing the boy to give a full body jerk of surprise and flatten himself against the wall.

"No-nothing." He spluttered, his eyes wide with alarm.

Mr. Todd narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Why are you lurking out her? Why aren't you scurrying around after Mrs. Lovett like you usually do?"

The boy didn't reply, his eyes darted nervously into the kitchen and then back to Mr. Todd.

"What's going on in there?" Mr. Todd said suspiciously, craning his neck to see into the kitchen.

"Nothing." Toby said, completely unconvincingly.

Mr. Todd eyed the boy beadily and then, sweeping the boy aside, strode into the kitchen.

He found the shop completely empty except for Mrs. Lovett and a single customer. Mrs. Lovett was pushed against the table, empty plate in hand as the customer pushed a remaining piece of pie between his lips. Mrs. Lovett gave a fake, girlish giggle that Mr. Todd had been fortunate enough not to hear before now. She lowered her eyelashes as she slid the plate back onto the table behind her.

Mr. Todd was rooted where he stood, a sickly wave of cold anger washing over him. He didn't like the way the customer's hand had moved up to wipe a smudge of flour off Mrs. Lovett's slender chin. He didn't like the way she raised her eyes up under her eyelashes to meet the customer's gaze. He certainly didn't like the way that they could have been boxed up and sent quite comfortably to Australia in their current, close proximity. He looked darkly over the man's tall, well-built figure and immaculate dress and thought how much he'd love to dirty up that crisp, white shirt a little…

Neither seemed to have noticed Mr. Todd. He gave a small, pointed cough but neither looked up. The customer moved half an inch closer to Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd jerked forward.

"Mrs. Lovett." He blurted out without really know what he was doing.

The customer jerked his head at Mr. Todd, alarmed at finding another person - a man at that – in what he took to be a widow's household. Mrs. Lovett on the other hand turned slowly, looking coolly unaffected.

"Yes, Mr. Todd?" She said calmly, not moving from her place against the table even though the customer had jolted back a few feet.

Mr. Todd thought saying 'Where's my breakfast' seemed like a poor declaration to go with his dramatic entrance.

"Why haven't you opened the shop?" He demanded instead.

"It _is_ open." She replied coolly. "It's a slow day." She seemed to be mocking him with her calm carelessness. "I see _you_ haven't had a customer all morning." She added, nodding to the stairs in plain view from her shop, leading to Mr. Todd's shop above.

Mr. Todd narrowed his eyes coldly at her. She stared back in unaffected silence, goading him with the derisive glint in her eye.

"Sir," Mr. Todd suddenly turned to the silent customer, still standing stiffly a few feet from Mrs. Lovett. "I own the tonsorial above… would you oblige me…?"

The man looked taken aback at being offered such curtesy as a shave from whom he had assumed was Mrs. Lovett's husband or more scandalously her lover…

"You don't need a shave, sir." Mrs. Lovett said a little too quickly to fool Mr. Todd with her former pretended indifference. "You look… uh… rustic…" Her eyes glanced to his badly kept stubble.

"Ah, sir. It would take only a few minutes." Mr. Todd said softly, enjoying Mrs. Lovett's badly disguised panic and the man's complete ignorance immensely. "A closer shave in London you won't find…"

Mrs. Lovett sent him an icy look and pushed herself up from the table, seeming sulkily resigned to the fact that meat was meat after all and they couldn't really afford to be turning away willing customers.

"This way, sir. It won't take a moment." Mr. Todd said through a cold smile, his eyes flashing with sadistic pleasure. He placed a hand behind the man's back and began to guide him away to his doom.

Mrs. Lovett watched the two men disappear upstairs, seething with anger. Cruel. Old. _Wanker._

--

"I liked him." Mrs. Lovett said resentfully as she watched her ex-customer tumble down off the bloodied barber seat.

"Really? I wasn't keen." Mr. Todd replied off-handedly, wiping his razor clean.

Mrs. Lovett was sour faced, as she slid his overdue breakfast tray onto his dresser. "You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"It was your idea to kill people for meat," Mr. Todd shrugged, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "I'm merely carrying it out as agreed."

Mrs. Lovett crossed her arms and stood glaring at him. "He was nice. So normal and… sane… and…_normal_…"

"Unlike me you mean." Mr. Todd said flatly.

"Sometimes I feel you're purposely trying to make my life miserable." She said fiercely, hands moving instinctively to her hips.

He turned on her. "_Me?_ That's rich."

"I've done nothin' but be sweet and courteous and obligin' to you." She snapped. "I've done everything for you."

"I- Mr. Todd paused. _I've done everything for you._ Was it just him or did that sound like something a lover would say…?

Mrs. Lovett seemed to have realised her blunder because she turned slightly pink but stood, still furious and determined at his door. "Either treat me like a human being or leave."

"I would but you're blocking the door."

"You bastard!" She said shrilly, her eyes flashing with anger.

Mr. Todd was a little taken aback. She was angrier than he'd seen her since the broom cupboard incident.

"I hate you! You hear me? Get out of my house, you bastard! You pig! Get OUT! GET OUT!"

Mr. Todd wasn't sure what possessed him but at that moment he found that he dropped the razor he usually carried so lovingly and the next moment had moved in a smooth movement to Mrs. Lovett, swept the breakfast tray onto the floor and pushed her roughly onto the dresser, lips roughly assailing her neck and chest. She had given a small groan of pain as she was slammed onto the dresser and against the wall but had not kicked him in the crotch, which was encouraging.

"Get out… get out…. you wa-wa… stop…" She threw her head back to enjoy the full sensation of having Mr. Todd's lips on her skin. "Mr…Mr…" She struggled a little against him as he pulled her sharply down and pushed himself against her, lips on her cheekbones and neck. Her struggles only intensified Mr. Todd's desire, he pushed his mouth against hers and at first she didn't respond but he could feel her quivering underneath him in lust, in a desperate want to reciprocate Mr. Todd's affection. She slowly let herself react to his passion, as he kissed her deeply and fiercely.

As a he broke away, she realised that there was blood on her bottom lip. He was watching her with intense desire in his dark, usually emotionless eyes. She could barely think, she barely registered that she was kissing Sweeney Todd, the man she had lusted after for many silent, painful years of solitude. He had a strength and dominance that she had only seen before when he was handling his razors, a control reserved for when he was taking someone life in his barber's chair.

He was a rough lover. He thrust her against the dresser, lips bruising her collarbone, her neck, her lips. Her head was back; his arms were either side of her, trapping her in his power, as he obviously wanted. In this outpour of desire he was asserting his dominance over her, as he had always wanted to.

While she was still reeling in pleasure, he half dragged, half lifted her into his arms and brought her to his barber's chair, thrusting her down and leaving her to heave, breathless, one foot over the side of the chair, her dress coming away at the seams from the vigorous pressing of two bodies together. Her eyes were dark with desire as she looked on Mr. Todd and he moved his hands to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it and letting it fall to the ground, revelling in the way her eyes were smouldering with lust as he did so. He moved to his trousers, releasing them from their belt and dropping it to the floor and then sliding down his trousers. Then, in a sharp change of temperament, he came for her, kneeling over her body, clawing at her clothes in his fierce need for her. She let him do as he wished, her chest was heaving with breathless passion. He thrust his hips against hers, rolling himself into her and drawing from her lips a gasping groan of want in unison with his. He pushed her skirts up, having abandoned attempting to undress her properly. He glanced at her flushed, desperate face and then, almost breathless with arousal, his thighs either side of her hips, one of her legs on the chair arm and the other pushed painfully underneath him, he could barely believe he finally had her where he wanted her.

"Yes." He said hoarsely, trailing his lips down her neck, like he had wanted to do so many times before, and pausing on her collarbone to draw from her the gasp of pleasure he adored hearing.

"Yes…" She breathed, her head back and her back arched in anticipation-

"Marm?"

"NO." They screamed out in unison.

There was silence. They begged the Lord to make the boy go away, they promised silently that they would pray faithfully every night for the rest of their lives and go to church every Sunday if he just this _one _time obliged to let them shag like rabbits. However today God was apparently not in a bargaining mood.

"Marm! There are customers down here! Hundreds! I can't keep up with them all!" Toby's voice came from behind the door, which he had mercifully learnt not to enter without knocking on pain of death.

Mrs. Lovett looked at Mr. Todd and then at the door.

"Mrs. Lovett…" Mr. Todd growled. His unspoken warning that he would make her pay if she abandoned him in his time of _intense _need now clearly projected through his icily narrowed eyes.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, pushing him away and tottering, a little unsteadily to the door.

"Co-coming Toby, love." She croaked before clearing her throat. "Coming!" She didn't glance back at the barber as she exited, looking much the same as she usually did save for her hair being a little more dishevelled than usual and her bodice looking like something vicious had attacked it while she was still in it. Which, funnily enough, was actually true…

Mr. Todd watched her go, brimming with murderous rage that almost eclipsed his painful dissatisfaction. He come have killed the boy… He could have done it quite without the slightest flinch, without the slightest hesitation… She had been… right… _there_. He felt his hands give a tremble as he sat, still slumped in the barber's chair, frozen with disbelief.

"WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET LAID AROUND HERE?!?!?!" He roared, not caring who heard him or if the whole of London heard him in his fury.

_End of Chapter Fifteen_

_Kekeke, I do love torturing poor ole' Mr. T XD_


	16. Menial Favours

**Author's Notes:** Sorry! I deserted you for a while but I know excactly where I'm going with this so the next chapter shouldn't be too long coming... Again I kind of... fall off the masculinity train tracks here but... it's sall good XD I had some fun along the way and I hope you like it. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: All Stephan's and Tim's I'm afraid...**

Menial favours

Since Mr. Todd had moved in upstairs Mrs. Lovett seemed to always have a surplus of dirty washing. No matter how much she did, Mr. Todd's immediate need for clean shirts never ceased and a good deal of her spare time, if she wasn't baking, cleaning or running around after Mr. Todd, was spent in the confines of her laundry, washing and pressing Mr. Todd's shirts. Not that she minded being in her laundry, she liked her laundry, it was small and cosy, always quiet and warm with just a single window, glancing out onto the London street, set low enough to show only the legs of the people walking past but still unreachable from the floor without a stool. The laundry itself didn't bother her but the fact that she was confined to it for hours on end, scrubbing and hanging and pressing for _one _man was what irritated her. After she had been trapped in the steamy cell for three or so hours her tenderness for Mr. Todd had all but evaporated along with ten litres or so of soapy water.

The midday heat was near unbearable as Mrs. Lovett dumped another pile of bloodied shirts in the already murky water of the half-full tub.

"Bloody… _barbers_." She growled to herself, shoving the shirts roughly to the bottom of the tub. "Could be doing something _useful_ but I'm in here… like a bloody washerwoman…" She stuck her already thoroughly wrinkled hands into the lukewarm water and began to scrub at the unyielding stains on each of the shirts.

She was almost fainting in the heat, her dress was heavy and the sleeves were long and kept tumbling down into the water no matter how many times she impatiently pushed them up.

"…Doesn't even do his own damned washing… sits up there… like a bloody _lord _in his bloody_ castle_…" She continued her crossly muttered rant as she scrubbed. "_Come here and clean my shirts. Go there and cook my breakfast. Come here and… have a shag…" _She trailed off absentmindedly, as, inevitably, the proceedings of the day before waddled back into her mind, as if on que.

She rested on her elbows at the tub, as she dwelt on the near bliss she had come to the day before. It both thrilled and unnerved her to discover this new borne desire and lust in him. Desire and lust, which seemed to be directed at her. She frowned, as she gazed off unfocusedly at the dirty, brick wall opposite her.

"What's wrong with you… you've got what you want… so take it…" She told herself crossly, giving herself a shake. "No need playing hard to get when you've practically laid yourself in front of him at least a dozen times before-

Her elbow suddenly slipped off the side of the tub and she plummeted painfully into the soapy water with a cry of alarm.

"_Damn_," She swore irritably, examining the damage as she got heavily to her feet. There was a gash in her arm but it wasn't deep. The sleeves were sodden up to her armpits. "Damn. Damn. Damn." She held out her arms with a shudder at the uncomfortable feel of the soaked material against her clammy skin.

She shuffled over to the door, arms held out in front of her, zombie-like. She reached the door and struggled to open it with her slippery right hand. The doorknob didn't budge, her hand slipped off the surface again and again as she tried more aggressively to open the door.

"Come _on_, you… stupid… doorknob…" She growled, clawing at it. " You piece of _junk_…"

As though to spite her, at that very moment, the doorknob shot off the door, escaped her hand and cluttered onto the floor, where it sat resignedly, as though mocking her frustration. She stared at it blankly. Not quite registering the conundrum she was now in. She looked from the empty hole in the door to the tarnished brass knob, sitting innocently on the watery stones.

"Why…" She said weakly, shaking her head. "_Why? _What have I done _now_?" She demanded of the ceiling. She crossly pushed up her sodden sleeves and snatched the knob from the floor, attempting to shove it back into the door. "_Please._" She said desperately. "_Please_ go back in." She pushed the doorknob back into the door and tentatively drew back her hand. It sat there for half a second and then slowly slid back out again, falling with a clutter to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" Mrs. Lovett burst out. "Give me an effing' break!"

She kicked the doorknob viciously and it bounced off the wall and landed back in front of her feet. She glared at it, as though it was a living creature purposely trying to irritate her.

The idea of screaming for Mr. Todd to come and free her from her own laundry was cripplingly embarrassing to even think about. Especially given the circumstances of the day before. She wondered if Toby was still out cold from sculling almost a whole bottle of gin with his lunch, an hour or so ago. If he had woken up, he _may_ be able to hear her cries from the living room if she bellowed loud enough. But… if he wasn't… which she had to admit was very likely… Mr. Todd might hear her and come thundering down the stairs thinking she was being mugged and find her locked… in her laundry…

She cringed. It was a mortifying fate but what else could she do? She couldn't consent to sitting in a laundry all day because of pride… she'd properly die of heat exhaustion before the day was out anyway. She sighed heavily and slumped against the wall, sliding down to the ground to rest her aching feet. The way she saw it, she could wait here until Toby eventually woke up and came to find her (which could be hours knowing that boy's drinking habits) or she could cry for help at the risk of Mr. Todd hearing her and having to rescue her, like some stupid, hysterical fishwife. Such choice… humiliation or utter humiliation… At least the latter came with less chance of her passing out from the heat. She raised her eyes to the roof and sighed again, wondering how she got herself into these situations…

As she did, her eyes fell upon the single window set high in the wall, through which was the glorious outside, sunlight and fresh air… Every so often a pair of trouser-clad legs would pass by. She frowned. Perhaps there was a third option…

Getting to her feet she wandered over to the window and reached her arms up to measure the width of the window with her hands. It wasn't _that_ small. She then measured her hips. She could _just_ squeeze through, if she didn't breath… She grabbed for the stool always sitting in the corner and shoved it under the window. It wasn't as stable as she would have liked but hopefully it wouldn't splinter under her weight. She stepped gingerly onto it, it gave a protesting groan but didn't crumble beneath her as she had partly expected. When on top of it her head and shoulders were almost perfectly level with the window, if a little higher. She pushed it open and craned her neck to see what was below the window. There was a considerable drop to the pavement, there weren't many people in the quiet street but she didn't particularly want to be seen if she could help it.

With a resolute nod, she gripped each side of the window and attempted to lift herself up to the window. She managed to lift herself a couple of inches and then her elbows gave way and she fell back down to the stool. She re-gripped her hands on the windowsill and attempted again to lift herself, this time she managed to lift herself level to the window but before she could begin to work her way into it, her elbows gave away again under the pressure and she plummeted downwards.

"Come on, Nell." She hissed, rubbing her sore hands together.

She placed her hands firmly on the windowsill and managed to this time yank herself up and almost cleanly into the window. But she was rested on her shoulders and it was immensely painful so she scrambled through until she was rested on her stomach. It was a little less painful but still not ideal. She tried to move herself through but she found that the stiff cage of her corset would not budge through the limited space of the window no matter how roughly she forced it.

Now, in serious pain and half jammed through the window, she desperately tried to scramble back out and almost shot out too quickly for her to balance herself. When she was safely on the ground she stared up at the window, not wanting to give up too easily on something that seemed like an ideal escape. Her hips certainly fit through… if only she didn't have to accommodate for her stiff, bulky clothing…

--

"You need to be more assertive." Mr. Todd told his reflection as he absentmindedly polished his already gleaming razor. "Assert your dominance over her… like a bear… or some form of dominant beast type animal… sort of thing…" He frowned at his reflection. His hair now completely grown back and tangled messily around his haggard, sickly face. He held up the razor to his reflection and smirked for effect. Any normal woman would find him truly alarming as a razor-wielding murderer but Mrs. Lovett seemed to think he was some sort of hysterical, over emotional eccentric with an unusual hobby.

He laid down his razor and wandered across to the far window to glare down into the bustling Fleet Street below, as he often found himself doing. It was all rather clichéd villain behaviour that he usually tried to avoid but sometimes a murderer just had to brood on the decadence of society in peace and quiet. The day after his failed attempt to bed Mrs. Lovett he had woken to find himself strangely calm… eerily calm. Mr. Todd was _never _calm… he was quiet… silent… brooding… resentful but… never, ever simply content to be just still… There was always a violent scheme bubbling below the surface… or a twisted fantasy concerning Mrs. Lovett, one of his razors and his barber's chair lurking in the depths of his decrepit mind… but never just blank calmness… He wondered whether he had finally gone mad. Whether any day now he was going to burst into a rendition of _Lavender's Blue Dilly Dilly_ while skipping about Fleet Street, handing out turnips and smiling at strangers… He shuddered… he was sure he'd rather die violently in a vegetable cart accident…

He hoped he wasn't going mad. It sounded odd coming from the man who spent a good deal of his time murdering people and having them processed into pies but he truly did not want to turn into a drooling, rambling maniac with a permanent dopey grin before he had time to bed Mrs. Lovett and enjoy it. And enjoy it he would… if he could just pin her down for two minutes or so without her slipping through his grasp… Hmm… two minutes didn't sound very impressive… maybe five…

Suddenly a shrill scream from downstairs brought him sharply back to earth. He turned abruptly to the door, staring at it and then at the rotting floorboards. What on earth could have happened now…

Gripping his razor tightly in case he had to wrangle Mrs. Lovett away from a chorus of bank robbing pirates with cricket bats, he swept out of his room and made for the stairs. As he did he heard another cry from Mrs. Lovett.

"HELP! TOBY! TOBY!'

Toby… _Toby!? _What could a boy, half Mr. Todd's height and weight, possibly do against a band of murderous ex-convicts with butcher's knives? Did she really think that less of him that she was choosing _Toby_ over him? How depressing…

He span the corner and nearly lost his balance but managed to hold himself upright on the tips of his toes.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

He hurtled down the hallway, stopping to listen for where it was coming from. The kitchen was empty and Toby was out cold in the living room… Mr. Todd couldn't help feeling a triumphant leap in his stomach at the sight of the slumbering twelve-year-old slumped in Mrs. Lovett's armchair.

"CAN SOMEONE BLOODY WELL HELP ME?!"

Mr. Todd frowned, even in grave peril, she was as shrill and common as ever… He turned the corner to where Mrs. Lovett's bedroom was and stepped towards it before another scream of what sounded oddly like frustration told him it wasn't the bedroom but the laundry that her voice was coming from. Still frowning, he headed for it and hesitantly turned the knob, unsure of what he would find.

The last thing he had expected to find, on entering the stifling laundry, was Mrs. Lovett's legs and rear end sticking out of a high placed window in the far wall. He stared in utter disbelief at her and then at her discarded gown and corset on the floor… She was dressed only in her bloomers and petticoat… Was Mr. Todd… purposely being tempted by the vulnerable bottom of his object of lust…?

"For God's sake!" She wailed suddenly, causing him to jump back in surprise. "Someone _help _me!" She sounded practically tearful.

"I'm here…" He said stupidly, not sure what to say to his landlady's backside sticking out of the window.

He saw her tense, her back go rigid as though she would have preferred it to be anyone (including The Beadle) than him.

"Mr. T…" was her weak reply. "I'm stuck…"

"I can see that." Mr. Todd said coolly, while feeling the colour rise in his cheeks. He could see a lot else too…

"I was doing the washing… and I had to change my dress… and then the knob fell off… and then I tried to climb out of the window… but my whalebone was too stiff… so I took it off." She said tearfully, through much struggling.

Mr. Todd had no idea what she was going on about… knobs and whalebones…? Had she paid an early morning visit to an opium den without his noticing…? The image of Mrs. Lovett, high on opium, attempting to climb through the window in her underclothes made him snort unintentionally.

"Don't you laugh at me! You brute!" She howled it him, kicking her hanging legs furiously against the wall. "Don't you dare laugh! I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what…" Mr. Todd couldn't help asking with a smirk.

"I'll…" She trailed off, suddenly realising what Mr. Todd had realised a while ago, that she was utterly trapped at Mr. Todd's mercy.

There was a prolonged silence. Mr. Todd watched Mrs. Lovett struggle fruitlessly against the window, Mrs. Lovett stared out into the street, praying that no one would come along and find her…

"Mr. Todd, this is really uncomfortable…" She whined, hoping to appeal to his sense of decency.

"I don't doubt it." He replied, wandering over to her.

"Oh, thank God. Thank you- What are you doing…" She suddenly heard a screech of wood on stone as Mr. Todd plucked the stool, sitting just a few slight inches below Mrs. Lovett's toes and took it back a few metres for him to sit on.

"Sitting."

He sat back on it, spreading his legs forward and placing his hands behind his head, enjoying himself too much to give in to her pitiful whining and complaints.

"I'm going to suffocate!" She wailed, thrashing wildly in the window.

"Probably, if you stay there long enough." Mr. Todd replied calmly.

"You want me dead!"

"You know what I want, but you refused to give it to me… so… why should I give you something you want…" Mr. Todd said nonchalantly.

"Mr. T… if you're talking about…"

"Well, why should I?" He prompted her.

"Why are you being such a bastard!" She demanded, kicking the wall with her boot.

"There's no need to lose your temper, Mrs. Lovett." Mr. Todd said calmly, quickly learning that the calmer he was the angrier she got. "I haven't done anything to you… yet."

She suddenly went limp and he thought he saw an involuntary tremble go down her. "Wh-what… do you mean…" She stammered. "Do what…"

He didn't reply. He liked seeing her hang there in terror of what he could do with her in his power.

"What do you want?" She asked at length. "Come on. Name your price, you ungrateful git."

"Hmm?" He said, deliberately obtuse.

"If you get me down from here, what do you want?" She said impatiently.

"Oh…" He feigned surprise. "Well! I don't know… I mean… what could a woman like you possibl**y**offer a man like me…"

He waited as she fell silent, seeming to be considering his words.

"I'm not a whore, Mr. Todd." She said icily after a while. "I'm not something to be bought through menial favours that any good human being would perform naturally without putting a poor woman through hell…"

"Oh… I see… well…" He got up from the stool, screeching it purposely across the floor as he did. "If that's how you feel then I'd best get back to my shop… you know… customers could be waiting…"

He went to leave. He was half way out the door when she spoke.

"Alright!" She barked. "Alright! Fine! For God's sake! Get me down!"

Mr. Todd smirked. Victory…

He went across and without hesitating, placed his hands either side of her slim waist to pull her down. She jerked under his contact.

"Will this work?" She asked him nervously.

"I hope so." He replied shortly, gripping tightly on her waist and ignoring the dull throbbing below his belt buckle. He had to keep control… "On the count of three… one, two-

"Wait! What if my petticoat is dragged off?"

Mr. Todd froze. What _if_… "Look." He said impatiently out loud. "Do you want to get out or not…"

"Fine, fine! Just, please… be gentle…"

Mr. Todd raised his eyes to the ceiling and re-gripped his hands. "Ok. Count of three. One, two-

"Wait!"

"_What_?" Mr. Todd said exasperatedly.

"What if my arms get caught?"

"They won't! For God's sake, be quiet and let me work, woman."

"…Did you just call me-

"Shhh!"

She unexpectedly obliged and stopped talking.

"Now… if there aren't anymore interruptions… may I resume saving you… one, two… THREE!" He pulled her with all his strength and, unsurprisingly, she didn't budge. She did give a shrill scream of pain however.

"Oooooow! Mr. Todd! That hurt so much!"

"Sorry." He said grudgingly. "I can't believe you didn't move at all… how tightly are you jammed in there…"

"Shut up and try again!"

"Alright, alright. Keep your petticoat on…"

"Ha _Ha_."

"One, two, three…" He said rather less enthusiastically than before. He pulled her again and this time she slipped back half an inch or so.

"Ouch! My arms! Oh, God. I hope they don't get stuck…"

Mr. Todd didn't speak and resumed trying to free her. Three more violent yanks and she was still resolutely jammed in the window. This was a lot harder than Mr. Todd had previously thought…

He stood back to see how far he'd pulled her so far. To his dismay he found that he had barely pulled her more than five inches.

"This is ridiculous… why didn't you just call me before you tried climbing out of the bloody window…" He grumbled.

She didn't reply and he read her silence like a book.

"Ah." He said softly. "Is this part of the 'I don't need anyone's help, least of all, Mr. Todd's' act you've got going."

"No." She snapped. "I don't mind help but you can't blame me for wanting to avoid a gloat session from you."

"If you found me half stuffed through a window in my underwear, you'd gloat too."

"Shut up and pull me out!" She hollered, kicking the wall again.

He shrugged and went forward to take her waist.

"Try grabbing onto something else." She said.

Mr. Todd hesitated. "Like what?"

"I don't know, use your imagination." She said irritably.

Mr. Todd bit his lip, he was jolly well _not _going to use his imagination… he'd probably earn himself a kick in the crotch if he did… He decided on her knees.

"You can't hold my knees… you'll pull them out of their sockets…" She said flatly as soon as he placed his hands around them.

"Where then?" He whined.

"You're not being very helpful. Why don't you go and get Toby to help you-

"Fine!" He snapped, grabbing onto her thighs. "Bloody woman…" He yanked painfully hard on her legs and she gave a shriek of pain.

"For pity's sake, have a heart, Mr. Todd!"

"Stop squealing. You know what that will look like to someone walking past?"

"Oh shut up…"

He gave her another yank and she squeaked in pain but managed to keep from crying out.

"Nearly there…" He said insincerely and yanked her again with all his might.

To his immense surprise, with a yelp of shock she shot through the window and toppled on top of him, landing them both in a painful heap on the floor.

It took them a few moments of stunned silence to realise what had happened. Then, gingerly, Mr. Todd got to his feet. Mrs. Lovett was bent over on her hands and knees, heaving with staggered breaths. The pain across her stomach was immense but nothing felt broken so that was a bonus. What _wasn't_ a bonus was that exactly what she had thought would happen, had happened. Fortunately or unfortunately though it hadn't been her arms that had been yanked off when she was pulled through the window….

"Well. That was exciting." Mr. Todd said dryly, going to examine the open window.

"Mmm." Mrs. Lovett said offhandedly, searching desperately, head down for her petticoat before Mr. Todd noticed. She glanced up and swore under her breath. It was slumped, inches from Mr. Todd's feet, below the window.

"Are you… in one piece?" Mr. Todd grunted, turning to her.

Mrs. Lovett didn't know what to do.

"What's wrong?" He frowned. "Are you… hurt?"

"No." She squeaked, frozen on her hands and knees.

"Uh… you know… we don't have to… discuss payment now…"

He thought she was offering herself to him… how typically male…

"Uh… Mr. Todd… you wouldn't mind… perhaps… passing me… that petticoat… could you?" She asked weakly.

A look of realisation bloomed on Mr. Todd's face and he flushed scarlet. His eyes glanced down her front and then to the petticoat fallen on the floor near him. He hurriedly plucked it and passed it to her.

"Thanks." She said in a muffled voice as she directed herself away from him and yanked the petticoat on. She glanced down. Brilliant… completely see-through…

She stood up stiffly, back still to Mr. Todd, and edged over to her dress and corset still in a pile by the wall. Mr. Todd followed her with his eyes. He'd managed to come this far without ravishing her… but he wanted her. He _really_ wanted her… He glanced at the door. If he shut it so no… unwanted visitors came in… who could know that he was in the laundry with his landlady?

He smirked to himself and while Mrs. Lovett struggled with her corset, he slunk across to the door and shut it quietly. Not quietly enough it seemed because Mrs. Lovett heard it shut and turned her head to him with a frown.

"What are you-

"Shut up, Mrs. Lovett."

He strode towards her and without waiting for her look of alarm to pass, wrenched the corset from her hands and threw it aside, pushing her into the wall with his free hand and slamming himself against her. A look of realisation flashed through her eyes and then he was on her lips, while tearing her already minimal layers from her body.

"Mr. T…" She breathed as he worked. "What if…"

He deepened the kiss to silence her and tore the flimsy petticoat from her chest and dropped it aside, rolling himself against her. She gasped roughly as he forced himself harder against her. She could feel every curve… and bump… She moved her free hand to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons and in her impatience ending up ripping it from his chest and letting it fall. She moved her hand down to his belt.

"Hurry _up_." He growled, into her hair, as she struggled with his belt.

"I'm… trying…" She panted, feeling blindly while she was pinned against the wall with what felt like most of Mr. Todd's body weight.

"For fuck's sake." He snarled, after a few more minutes of having her fumbling around tantalizingly close to his crotch. He forced her hand away and ripped his own belt off and threw it aside, and tore off the two buttons on the front of his trousers, letting them slide down his thighs. He then slammed her roughly against the wall and tugged her bloomers downward. Mrs. Lovett wrapped her thighs around Mr. Todd's waist, as he continued his attack of her neck and collarbones.

"Ouch…" She gasped, as he dragged her up onto himself to reach her lips.

He staggered backwards with her but wasn't willing to release her lips from his. She broke away to gasp some air and as she did she realised with a thrill of alarm that they were hurtling towards the nearest tub.

"Mr. Todd…" Her eyes widened. She didn't have time to warn him, his legs hit the side of the tub and he toppled over the side of it, bringing Mrs. Lovett with him.

Mr. Todd slammed the bottom of the tub with his arse and gave a gulping 'ooph' of pain as Mrs. Lovett landed on top of him, submerged in bloodstained water.

"Get _off_." Mr. Todd gasped, thrashing slightly underneath Mrs. Lovett. "You're… drowning… me."

Mrs. Lovett scrambled backwards, to the side of the tub, flinching slightly at the contact of the cold tub against her back. Mr. Todd floundered upright, spluttering. He shook the murky water out of his eyes and stared at Mrs. Lovett, half dressed and heaving with haggard breaths opposite him.

"We're wet." She said lamely.

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a few moments longer. Silence fell on them.

"I can live with it." They suddenly blurted out in unison, pouncing for each other.

_End of Chapter Sixteen_


	17. The 'Letter'

_You know what I've always wondered? Why 'Sweeney' Todd? Why THAT name? Why not sometime like… Brutus Van Todd or… I dunno something butch and testosteroney… Don't get me wrong! I LOVE the name 'Sweeney Todd'… but… how'd he even come up with that? Do you think he just sat in his cell or… dug up stuff… for fifteen years just throwing names around in preparation of his return? But settling on that particular name couldn't have been a mistake really… 'Todd' is old English for 'fox' and isn't that just SO appropriate (on sooo many levels)? But 'Sweeney'… that is, in actuality, a clumsy corruption of the name of the real-life, long dead cannibal 'Sawney Beane'… although one has to wonder how Mr. Todd came across that strange, obscure piece of information…_

_Mrs Lovett: Well, I'm not gonna lie, Mr. Barker. You look like a steam train hit you and dragged you along for a couple of miles through a field of cacti-_

_Mr. Todd: NO! Not 'Barker'. It's 'Todd' now… 'Sweeney' Todd… and he will have his revenge-_

_Mrs. Lovett: *snort*_

_Mr. Todd: …What…_

_Mrs. Lovett: Nothing… *snigger*_

_Mr. Todd: What are you smirking at…_

_Mrs. Lovett: It's just… you've been… in prison *choke* for **fifteen** years… and _**that**_ is what you came up with… '_**Sweeney**_ Todd'…_

_Mr. Todd: …_

_Mrs. Lovett: Like seriously… what did you do? Read it off the back of a shovel?_

_Mr. Todd: And you have a better name…_

_Mrs. Lovett: I dunno… why not sommin' like… sommin' like… sommin' like… Barty! What about Barty?_

_Mr. Todd: 'Barty Todd'… no effing' way…_

_Mrs. Lovett: Well, I'm going to call you 'Barty'… it suits you-_

_Mr. Todd: Call me that one more time and I will-_

_Mrs. Lovett: Alright! Alright! Keep your eyeliner on… *snigger* Barty-_

_Mr. Todd: GAH!_

**Barty Todd XD**

**Author's Notes: **Alright, so that was my way of saying I am sooooooo sorry for the HUGE amount of time that has passed between the last chapter and this one. Especially after I said it shouldn't be too long... and then disappeared off into the night for a while. In my defense I've had a God awful week and just graduated school after having all my last exams and mess that happens at the end of term. Anyway, so I'm now on holiday until February when I start uni (woop) so I should be able to post alot more regularly.

Now... I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. It's not my favourite... but I hope you get some laughs out of it. That's the main thing ;)

Ooh, btw. I've been trying my hand at a couple of YouTube Sweeney Todd videos. Do take a look if you like and tell me what you think XD The links are on my author profile as I just realised that they don't work in this format XD

**Disclaimer: I think we've established... I am not Tim Burton... nor will I ever be...**

**Thank you to readers and reviewers for being so patient ;) What would I do without you.**

The 'Letter'

"For God's sake, Mr. Todd… just stick it in, it's not rocket science…"

"It's all bent though… it's not going to work…"

"Just stick it in and twist it around a bit."

"That's stupid, it won't work it it's all bent and dented…"

"Stop making a mountain out of a bloody mole hill and stick the damn thing in the hole…"

Mr. Todd glowered at the impatient baker woman but ignored her, going back to attempting to repair the ruined doorknob. Mrs. Lovett slumped against the wall and sulkily folded her arms. She was still dressed only in Mr. Todd's discarded shirt, having decided she couldn't be bothered to struggle back into her sodden, highly restrictive corset, petticoats and heavy overskirts. It was still very hot in the little laundry and being dumped in the lukewarm water (and the proceedings that had followed) had succeeded in making the barber and baker extremely hot and bothered. The belt on Mr. Todd's trousers had snapped cleanly in half, his trousers kept sliding down his slim hips and he kept impatiently yanking them back up as he clawed at the battered doorknob in an attempt to straighten it out so it would fit back in the door.

Mrs. Lovett leant her head back. She was trying to care that they were locked in a rather small, cramped, stuffy laundry but having just indulged in some rather terrific sex with her object of desire she was feeling too content… if a little sore… to much care if they ever escaped. Mr. Todd on the other hand was slowly going redder and redder as he fruitlessly attempted to bend the metal doorknob back into shape with his bare hands. Mrs. Lovett half expected steam to start billowing from his ears at any moment, as she watched him peacefully from the wall. If he was determined to ignore her advise then he could struggle on his own as far as she was concerned. She yawned pointedly and made herself more comfortable against the wall while Mr. Todd continued his efforts.

"Perhaps we could just shout for Toby to come and let us out." Mrs. Lovett said placidly, knowing what the answer would be.

Mr. Todd ignored her, in no mood to amuse her by bellowing for Toby to come and release them both from Mrs. Lovett's laundry.

"Stupid… bloody… _thing_." Mr. Todd snarled at length, pegging the knob so viciously at the opposite wall that Mrs. Lovett had to spring out of the way so it didn't hit her in the face.

"That was unnecessary." She said, stung.

"This is all your fault." He snapped sourly.

She sent him a withering look; she wasn't going to retort because that was what he wanted and if it frustrated him that she was playing the 'bigger person' game then all the better.

"I'm going to call Toby- She began instead.

"You even _think_ the name 'Toby' and I will kill you both." Mr. Todd spat.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. _Drama queen. _"Have it your way then. How do you suggest we get out of here?"

Mr. Todd stared around the laundry, obviously at a loss. His eyes fell on the window that not so long ago, had sported Mrs. Lovett's bottom. Mrs. Lovett followed his gaze and saw what he was staring at.

"You even think the word 'window' and I'll bake you into a pie and eat you myself." Mrs. Lovett said flatly, putting an end to Mr. Todd's ideas.

Mr. Todd huffed and puffed, pacing and swearing and storming. Mrs. Lovett watched him from her wall. He was like a particularly foul tempered tiger locked in a cage. She cocked one eyebrow. A tiger dressed only in his underclothes…

"This is ridiculous." She said finally, straightening up and folding her arms. "Maybe you should be man enough to admit when you need help-

He rounded on her. "Maybe _you _should know when to shut up."

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes at him. " Nice come back…"

--

Toby awoke with his head throbbing and his ears ringing with shrill knocking that sounded three times louder than usual. He squinted around him; his eyes still bleary with sleep and the remnants of his rather potent lunchtime drink a few hours prior.

"God…" He croaked, putting a hand to his throbbing head. "Ah…God…" He clawed his way upright and pushed back his damp hair from his aching forehead. He stumbled to his feet and lumbered his way to the kitchen. "I'm coming, I'm coming…" The knocking grew louder and more impatient. Toby fell through the kitchen door and, with his head down, stumbled to the door, dragging it open without hesitation. Victorian children in general hadn't had the extent of 'stranger danger' propaganda crammed down their throats as today's children do.

A tall figure barrelled past him from the gentle drizzle of late afternoon rain. Toby stood back, still clumsy, bleary, dazed from his indulgent drinking and tried to get his bearings.

"Wor kin'a shop shuts this early in the day?" Came a voice. "Wesa sho'keeper of this esta'lishmen'?"

Toby rubbed his head, trying to focus on the entrant. "What…"

"Arja' daft? Woz wrong wi'ja? Ar'ser me, wou' ja, brat."

Frowning through the pain, Toby squinted up and stumbled back in alarm. The man looked like Pirelli… _exactly_ like Pirelli; in fact it could have _been _Pirelli… except he lacked the extravagant accent… and extravagant clothing… Toby was too hung over for this weirdness…

"Pirelli?" He asked stupidly. The man's eyes narrowed.

"Worja' kno' bou' 'im?" He asked suspiciously, eyes fixed on the dishevelled lad.

"I…" Toby stammered. He didn't know what to say. That he had once been at the beck and call of the old bastard? That he had beat Toby to near death on more than one occasion? That he had then disappeared one day and hadn't been seen since that day when Toby had befriended Mrs. Lovett? No… it all sounded too damning… he would have to fob this off somehow…

"Uh… he once came in for… a shave… in the tonsorial above… a few months back…" Toby said clumsily. It wasn't really a lie…

The man gave Toby a long, hard look and then, finally, moved deeper into the shop, hands clasped behind his back as he combed it over with his eyes.

"I'd grea'ly apprecia' i', eef ya too' me to ya master…" He said smoothly, wandering from one side of the shop to the other, examining the bake table and cooking things lain out on the table amongst Mrs. Lovett's discarded dough and cooking mix.

Toby followed him uncomfortably with his eyes. He certainly wasn't going to fetch Mr. Todd… people seemed to have a nasty habit of disappearing when Mr. Todd was involved… But he thought maybe Mrs. Lovett could sweet talk the man out of the shop. The man turned back to him and Toby nodded his head slightly and turned to fetch Mrs. Lovett from whatever she was doing, when suddenly her voice… and Mr. Todd's too it sounded like… echoed from down the hallway…

"_TOBY_!"

Toby fell back in surprise. The man spun, staring first at Toby and then down the hallway and then, without waiting for Toby to react, strode past Toby, and away towards the hall.

"Wait!" Toby cried, taking chase after him. They both hurtled down the hallway towards the voices.

"TOBY!" They came again, as the man tore around the corner to the laundry corridor and Toby followed him, almost losing his balance at the turning.

The man had halted at the closed door, catching his breath as he held out a hand to the doorknob.

"Wait!" Toby exclaimed again, staggering to a halt behind him. "That's Mrs. Lovett's laundry! She won't like you poking around in there!"

The man ignored him and burst through the door like a detective barrelling into a criminal's hideout.

"Oly' ell!" Came his startled voice.

"Sweet Jesus!" Came Mrs. Lovett's.

"Shit…" Came Mr. Todd's.

Toby stared at the back of the Pirelli-look-a-like. He was _much _too hung over for this…

"What the devil are you playing at?" Mrs. Lovett snapped, pulling Mr. Todd's shirt down lower. "Parading into someone's house like this! Toby what were you thinking, letting him?"

Toby pushed his way past the Pirelli-look-a-like. "It wasn't me!" He said indignantly. "It was all _him_!" He jabbed a finger at the man, and then turned to Mrs. Lovett and his eyes widened. His 'marm' was dressed only in a very see-through, slightly too short shirt… that looked a lot like Mr. Todd's… and Mr. Todd was dressed only in what looked like his drawers…

"Marm…" He said, unnerved.

Mrs. Lovett wasn't listening. She was staring at the man in obvious alarm. He looked too much like a certain ex-barber for her liking. She exchanged a look with Mr. Todd. It certainly _looked _like Pirelli, but they both knew it couldn't be… unless Pirelli had survived a throat slitting, a very long drop onto a very hard floor and then all the pleasant proceedings of being prepared for one of Mrs. Lovett's meat pies…

"I tai' it tha' you are the owner of this ere esta'lishmen'?" The man asked, unabashed.

Mrs. Lovett raised her eyebrows. "Who wants to know?" She asked him warily.

The man gave an irritable jerk of his head and doffed his plain, very un-Pirelli-like hat. "Mirelli's the name, ma'am… or eet as' been since me brother came inta tha' barberin' business…"

Mrs. Lovett cocked an eyebrow despite herself… 'Mirelli'… was there really no originality in the world today…

Mr. Todd was thinking fast. What could he do to get rid of him? In any way possible… And what about Toby? What about that stupid, little brat… He would have been happy just to finish off the boy too but Mrs. Lovett would whine about it. And what about the method of 'getting rid' of 'Mirelli'… if that was his real name… which he was sure it wasn't…He would prefer not having to attempt to drown the stupid man in a couple of inches of water... it would take far too long… His razors would have been very handy at this moment in time… but his razors were safely locked away upstairs.

Mrs. Lovett shook her head at him, looking completely at a loss. Mr. Todd glanced around, battling to keep his unemotional exterior under this pressure. Toby was staring at him, Mrs. Lovett was staring at him, Mirelli was staring at him…. What did they want from him?!

Mrs. Lovett suddenly gave a little, businesslike cough and attempted to neaten her hair, still damp from the dip in the tub, as though she could actually make any real difference to the sodden, matted, wiry mess with a few half-hearted pats.

"Now then… Toby… why don't you go and make Mrs. Lovett a lovely cup of tea, love… and Mr. Todd… you'd like one too… wouldn't you… dear?" She said with a meaningful look at Mr. Todd.

Mr. Todd nodded quickly with a frown. Why hadn't he thought of that…

"No' so fast." Mirelli spoke suddenly, laying a firm hand on each of the boy's shoulder. Mrs. Lovett saw his nails dig into the boy's skin and narrowed her eyes slightly… perhaps cruelty to children was a family trait…

"What?" She snapped, forgetting her hostess manner for a moment.

"I ave' a few questions t' ask abou' me brother…you migh' know im'… name's 'Pirelli'." Mirelli said smoothly, his eyes unsettlingly knowing. "I eard' word tha' e was last seen in your shop…" He looked slowly from face to face, hands not loosening on Toby's shoulders.

"'Pirelli'…" Mrs. Lovett repeated thoughtfully, leaning on her knuckle for a moment in pretended puzzlement. "'Pirelli'… Does sound… a little familiar… don't it, Mr. Todd?"

Mr. Todd jerked, nodding his head hurriedly. "Yes… familiar…" He glanced away from Mirelli's calculating gaze and then back again.

"Really…" Mirelli said flatly, not looking at all convinced by Mrs. Lovett's facade. "Well, I should ope' so… e' was one a' the mos' well known barbers in London no' so long ago… but… e' disappeared… or people seem to fink e' did…" Mirelli leant his head back a little, surveying them closely one at a time. "I shou' li' infa'mation of is' whereabouts… and I would ask you… not to try anyfing… stupid…" His grip tightened on Toby's shoulder, nails digging in deeper. Toby gave a jerk of pain and looked mournfully at Mrs. Lovett.

A look of panic flashed unintentionally across Mrs. Lovett's eyes before she had time to disguise it and she hoped that Mirelli hadn't seen it but his grim smirk was not comforting.

Mr. Todd, who had been standing silently for the last few minutes, concocting a scheme as quickly as his foggy, post-sex brain could work, suddenly spoke:

"Sir, we haven't been entirely honest with you." He said quietly, making everyone jump and stare at him. Mrs. Lovett glanced at Mirelli and then at Mr. Todd. She hoped Mr. Todd knew what he was doing… "We did, indeed, come into contact with your form- your _brother_ but… only long enough for him to leave in my confidence… a… letter… containing his intention to …leave the country…" The lie formed clumsily on his tongue and he hoped Mirelli wasn't skilled in sensing when someone was talking shit.

Mirelli's eyebrows shot up. "_Leave th' country_?" He sounded very surprised, but not completely dubious, which was encouraging.

"In fact… I have the letter… upstairs… in my tonsorial… this very moment…" Mr. Todd went on softly, glancing upward and Mirelli followed his gaze to the ceiling. Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smirk slightly. She had to admit… he really was an evil genius sometimes…

Mirelli's grip had slackened slightly on Toby's shoulders. It was hard to tell whether he believed Mr. Todd or not… all eyes were fastened on him as Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd waited with baited breath for his response.

"Alrigh'…" He said at length, slowly removing his talons from Toby's shoulders. "Bring i' to me… an' I'll leave ya' be… if I'm satisfied with i'…"

Sweeney bowed his head to him and, taking Toby with him, swept past him and out into the corridor, hardly daring to believe he had gotten away with such a terrifically bad lie.

"Go and make yourself useful in the kitchen and don't come back until I call you, got it?" Mr. Todd told Toby and he left him, heading for the stairs.

Toby frowned after him, knowing quite well that there was little chance that Pirelli had 'left the country' but felt he'd had enough excitement to put him off snooping… for today. He shrugged and began his way back to the kitchen.

Mrs. Lovett stared after Mr. Todd and then at Mirelli who was also staring after the barber with a frown.

"I'm gonna follow im'." He said abruptly, moving towards the door.

"NO!" Mrs. Lovett burst out, grabbing hold of Mirelli's arm and making him jolt in surprise.

He turned to her with a suspicious frown. "Why…"

"Because… because…" Mrs. Lovett cast her mind around. She had to keep the idiot put while Mr. Todd was upstairs fetching his razors or there'd be all hell to pay. Suddenly, she had a brainwave. One that usually worked with men… "Because… I should like it if you stay here… keep me company." She said in her most seductive tone, usually saved for when she was trying to soften Mr. Todd up. "He'll only be a moment…" She moved her hand higher up his arm and he jerked slightly, she hoped not in disgust… that would have been thoroughly disheartening.

Mirelli glanced at the door and then turned back to her with a smirk. "Alrigh'…" He laid a hand on her waist. "I'll keep you company, love…"

Mrs. Lovett smiled, batting her eyelashes but inwardly feeling her stomach retract in disgust at being touched by this slimy, dirty, old bastard. She was doing this for Mr. Todd… She raised an eyebrow…. that other slimy, dirty, old bastard…

--

Mr. Todd burst into his barbershop and glanced around, trying to remember where he'd put his razors for safekeeping. Too much alcohol and sex was affecting his memory… He headed over to the dresser behind the barber's chair and yanked open the drawer. They weren't there… how infuriating… He slammed it shut and strode over to the other dresser that Mrs. Lovett always left his breakfast on and stared about it. He wondered whether Mrs. Lovett had done that annoying thing where she took it upon herself to clean his barbershop when he was asleep… The last time she had he had gone berserk at her and he'd hoped it had been enough to deter her from any future attempts… but that woman just didn't learn sometimes… He shook his head. She was a great lay though…

He leant against the dresser, picturing his landlady in his barber's shirt, half see-through from water, the buttons undone, her hair a mess of tangles and curls. He smirked to himself. Stupid woman… great lay though… He gave a jerk ad set about his search with more vigour. Where… were… those… stupid… _razors_…

--

Mrs. Lovett had fake laughed so frequently this evening that she was sure she had perfected the art forever. Mirelli's arms and hands were everywhere, on her waist, on her arms, he even had the nerve to touch her thigh at one point but she'd danced away with a shrill, panicked laugh. But after almost five minutes of Mrs. Lovett's strained flirtations he was growing impatient.

"When's tha' barber goin' ta get back with tha' letter?" He said, turning his head to the door.

Mrs. Lovett hurriedly laid a hand under his chin and dragged it back to her face. "Growing bored of me already, sir…" She purred.

"Aw, love… I cou' enjoy your com'nee all day… iz jus'… if me brother as' in fact left the country…" He sounded like he highly doubted it. "I'll need to scout im' out, won't I?"

Mrs. Lovett smirked at him and put a hand around his tie, pulling him an inch closer to her. "Yes… but there's no need to rush… is there, pet…" His hands found their way to her hips again and she gave an involuntary jerk and grimaced at him, trying to disguise her revulsion. She was doing this for Mr. Todd… Mr. Todd… Think of Mr. Todd. He moved his hand lower. MR. TODD. THINK OF MR. BLOODY. TODD.

--

FUCK. Where were those _fucking _razors… Mr. Todd swung around, staring wildly from one side of the room to the other. This was ridiculous… Where the hell had he put those precious, idolized razors that he spent most of his time drooling over or gazing adoringly at while Mrs. Lovett glowered jealously from afar? This was such a horridly inconvenient time to break routine…

He checked all the drawers of both dressers again. Why weren't they there!? Had that damn woman been in his things again… He was going to kill her one of these days… She always did the most infuriating things… like… make him shag her… He tried to shoo away the scantily dressed image of her from his mind and focus on the task at hand, knowing that Mirelli might at any moment come upstairs to seek out Mr. Todd and the so called 'letter'… He had to hurry up… If he were a razor… where would he hide?

--

"Loo'. This is all very nice, love. But where is tha' damn barber with me letter?"

Mrs. Lovett was running out of ideas. Where _was _that damn barber… How long could it possibly take to fetch a box of razors…?

"He'll be down in a moment… I'm sure…" She said more calmly than she felt. "It's just… you know… he's put it away for safe keeping…"

"Safe keeping?" Mirelli said dubiously.

"Yes… you know… away for safety…" She said, gesturing weakly.

"I know what 'safe keeping' is…" He snapped.

"Of course you do…" Mrs. Lovett said flatly, feeling stung. Mr. Todd was the only one who got to snap at her… She was becoming more eager for Mirelli's death by the moment.

"Tha's it. I'm goin' to go and find that lying bastard." He said bluntly, yanking himself away from her and stalking towards the door.

Mrs. Lovett watched him go helplessly, out of ideas. Then, with no thought and little idea of what she was doing she barrelled after him and all but threw herself onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"OH MIRELLI!" She exclaimed. "TAKE ME NOW!"

Mirelli was so startled that he fell back against the wall, looking stricken.

"What the hell is going on here…"

Mirelli and Mrs. Lovett's eyes both snapped towards the door. Mr. Todd had finally returned much to Mrs. Lovett's relief and exasperation. Mr. Todd had the _worst_ timing she had ever come across…

"Why… Mr. Todd…" She said airily, sliding down off Mirelli and dusting herself off with the air of someone welcoming someone to a tea party. "You've returned."

Mirelli was staring at her like she was mad, Mr. Todd was staring at Mirelli like he was the scum of the earth, Mrs. Lovett was patting her hair.

"It wasn' me!" Mirelli said stupidly, throwing up his hands. "She was the one oo threw herself on me like a whore-

"Excuse _me_." Mrs. Lovett snapped furiously.

"That isn't a very gentile manner, Mirelli…" Mr. Todd said in a dangerously soft voice and Mrs. Lovett knew what was coming.

Mirelli smirked at him, unfazed. "Why ja' care? What does that woman have anything to do with you anyways?"

"We're business partners." Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett said in angry unison.

"Look… I dunno what the fuck is going on but I'd appreciate my letter now…" Mirelli said abruptly, holding out a hand for the 'letter'.

Mr. Todd glanced at Mrs. Lovett who was still glowering at Mirelli with eyes like daggers.

"Is it in the box?" Mirelli went on impatiently, eyes fixed Mr. Todd's razor box.

Mr. Todd smirked slightly and wordlessly opened the box, revealing the spotless, silver razor lying innocently side-by-side. Mirelli stared at them blankly. Mrs. Lovett turned away pointedly, not eager to witness firsthand the slicing of a horrible but arguably innocent man's jugular, and busied herself with fetching her discarded clothes. Also, the novelty of wearing Mr. Todd's shirt had, by now, thoroughly worn off. She wondered over to her fallen clothing and began to sift through them.

Mr. Todd slowly drew one of the razors and pushed the box into Mirelli's hands. Mirelli stared down at the box and then at Mr. Todd who was stroking his razor with a small, unsettling smirk on his face like he was preening a lover.

"Loo', wha' the hell is this?" Mirelli snapped furiously. "Do you ave' the letter or no' you sick bas-

Mrs. Lovett was just struggling into her ruined petticoat when behind her she heard a horrible, convulsing scream and the squelch of metal through flesh, a splatter of blood against stone and then the heavy fall of a body against the laundry floor. She turned to find Mr. Todd peacefully wiping down his razor and Mirelli's blood covered body slumped at his feet.

"Problem solved, Mrs. Lovett." He said calmly.

--

"What _were_ you doing?" Mr. Todd asked her later from his place, leaning against the wall while she cleaned the mess from the floor. Mirelli's body had been dumped temporarily in one of the tubs to be taken down to the bakehouse later when Toby was unlikely to see them.

"When?" Mrs. Lovett replied distractedly, still scrubbing away at the blood strained stone floor.

"When I walked in here and you were… attached… to that filth." Mr. Todd jerked a thumb at the tub holding Mirelli's corpse.

"I had to keep him down here somehow…" Mrs. Lovett replied with a shrug. "I didn't know if polite conversation was quite going to do the trick."

Mr. Todd fell silent for a few moments before he spoke again. "So what did you do with him…" He sounded casual but there was a definite edge to his voice.

Mrs. Lovett glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… how… far did you go to… keep him down here…" Mr. Todd went on, watching her beadily.

Mrs. Lovett cocked an eyebrow at him. If she didn't know better… Mr. Todd… was _jealous_… She smirked, how interesting… "Oh… God… Mr. T… you know… sometimes you just have to go to some unprecedented lengths for the greater good." She gave a fake sigh and saw Mr. Todd tense up against the wall his arms dropping to his side and his brow creasing.

"What lengths…" He asked her dangerously and she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to goad him any further… he wasn't exactly the poster boy for keeping his temper after all…

"Oh, for God's sake, Mr. Todd." She rolled her eyes. "You carry on like such a child. I didn't have a roll in the tub with him if that's what's getting you all hot and bothered…"

Mr. Todd watched her carefully, seeming to be judging whether she was lying. Then, satisfied, he relaxed and returned to his casual stance, slumped against the wall.

"Alright… well you had to do what you had to do, I suppose…" He said gruffly, eyes down. "I wouldn't have cared if you had, anyway." He added unconvincingly.

Mrs. Lovett rested for a moment on her knees, a slight frown on her face as she stared at Mr. Todd's complacent figure.

"You know… just because you think you're King of the whole world… Mr. Todd… doesn't mean I'm your subject… I'm not your property just because we had a shag in the tub…" She said pointedly, hands on her hips.

Mr. Todd glanced at her and smirked, knowing just what to say to irritate her considerably. "Of course you are, Mrs. Lovett. I'm the man of the house after all."

He had to duck as a bloodied sponge came hurtling at his head.

_End of Chapter Seventeen_


	18. Toby's Last Attempt Part One

**A/N: **Boop Boop de doop... Anywayssss... so this is more like... a collection of snatchets from different moments of different characters. It drifts away slightly from Sweeney's masculinity and starts to touch on _his_ idea of masculinity compared to what Mrs. Lovett sees in or wants from him. So you know... the old 'men are from Mars, women are from Venus' chestnut that I've dug up and polished up nice and new for you. Or dusted at least...

Now... I'm not sure if this will be greeted by tears of joy or tears of sadness but I've decided to bring this fic to an end at Chapter Twenty. Simply because... I hate to admit it... but I'm running out of steam XD There definitely will be other fics but I think it's about time I put the ole' Masculinity Chronicles on the shelf for now. So over the next few weeks I'll be working on the last couple of chapters and bringing them to a close. After all, I think I've overstayed my welcome by now anyway ;) But thanks so much to readers and reviewers, you've been great. Better than great, you've been terrific. Love to all ;)

**Disclaimer: Nah. Snot mine.**

Toby's Last Attempt (Part 1)

Barbering could become an extremely monotonous pastime, Mr. Todd decided one day. It all became such a dull, well-known pattern. Lather. Swing. Slash. Peddle. Drop. _Crunch_. Lather. Swing. Slash. Peddle. Drop. _Crunch_. Lather. Swing. Slash. Peddle. Drop. _Crunch_. Lather. Swing. Peddle. Drop-

He gave a dissatisfied sigh as he heard yet another customer hit the floor of the bakehouse with the same sickening _crunch_ of bones against stone as they always did. When it no longer served to thrill him to murder a dozen or so men in a day, he knew that he needed a change or he'd end up cutting his _own_ throat and throwing himself down the chute. The judge never came… he was certain he'd frightened the daft Hope boy away for good… and his daughter was still attached to a stubbly, slimy old git who raped his dead wife… Such was life… Boring, dull, predictable life…

He lay down his razor and turned to glare out of the window. He was restless and bored. After being numb for the majority of the past fifteen years, it was odd that he was suddenly having the desire to… _do stuff_. Not that he really wanted to admit to Mrs. Lovett that he'd changed his mind and wouldn't mind that seaside holiday that she spent half her life blathering on about now… He didn't want her to get any _ideas_ in her head… but at the same time… he sometimes thought… he really _needed_ a holiday… Being a murderer was tiring and what with all the other things he had to worry about… primarily how masculine Mrs. Lovett thought him at any one time… he felt that he needed a bit of a breather from these four dismal walls… Maybe a little fresh air and sunshine. Some would say that he should have _had_ enough sun for one lifetime (what with being a labourer in Australia and all that jazz) but others would say that if you had been labouring in Australia for _fifteen_ _years_ and managed to come home _paler_ than when you left… then you really needed some serious stress relief. Or some spray tan.

As the latter wasn't widely available in mid-Victorian London, he thought the former was much more optimal if difficult to come to fruition. He'd only have to _mention_ the word 'holiday' to Mrs. Lovett and he'd be swept off to some God forsaken seaside cottage before he could blink. And the whole process of having to admit that for once Mr. Todd was on the same wavelength as Mrs. Lovett was _so_ degrading… He didn't want to have to admit to the stupid woman that he actually wanted to do something she wanted to do for a change. Aside from the odd quickie in the bathtub, of course. Which, Mr. Todd _had_ to admit had been _rather_ good. Unfortunately though, he couldn't enjoy the luxury of most men who were at liberty to finish a sexual encounter with 'That was good… same time tomorrow?". _Mr. Todd_ had to finish it with 'I hate you, stupid wench' and flounce off to his barbershop looking sulky and menacing. It was so draining having an image…

Lather. Swing. Slash. Peddle. Drop. _Crunch._ *_Sigh*_

--

Toby hadn't forgotten his ambition to secure a mother and a father in Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd and although there had been a period where he'd thought it quite improbable, he was quite pleased by how things had progressed. True, bursting in on the couple dressed in next to nothing in Mrs. Lovett's laundry tub hadn't been _ideal_ but the behaviour of the two couldn't have been mistaken. The two had _obviously _conversed… without any help from Toby at all! Who would have thought they had the ability too? Toby had always thought them rather stupid but apparently he'd underestimated them both. _That_ was very promising… or Toby thought so at least. Unfortunately however, when he tried to raise the topic with Mrs. Lovett, her reluctance to address the subject with him was ridiculous.

"Mrs. Lovett."

"Yes, dear."

"Yesterday in the laundry, did you and Mr. Todd-

"Nice day isn't it? Perfect for shopping. I might go to market. Actually I might go right this very _moment_. No time like the present!"

"But-

"NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT!"

And off she'd bustle, whistling manically to drown out any remarks Toby might attempt to make. Mrs. Lovett really was stupid if she thought she was fooling Toby. He knew exactly what was going on and he thought he could have even furthered matters along if Mrs. Lovett let him get a word in edgeways without her flouncing away when he'd barely got two words out.

What he _didn't _understand about marriage though, was how adults… seemed more likely to 'converse' when they were angry with one another… Or that was certainly the case with Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd anyway. They seemed angry with one another most of the time… and they could barely keep their hands off each other… It was all very strange and baffling to Toby. But if it worked… it worked, he supposed. Whatever the mathematics of the process were. And _that_ was what got Toby a-thinking, a few days after the scene in the laundry, of how this little oddity of Mr. Todd's and Mrs. Lovett's could help nudge them in the direction of the altar. He had much time to ponder on it, during his many chores and household tasks. He couldn't help wondering whether… if he made Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett angry enough with one another… as in, _really_ furious…. they might finally agree to marry. It certainly was cheaper than buying expensive aphrodisiacs and safer (for him) than locking violent barbers in cupboards. Even if this alternative method seemed a bit strange… Anyway, until he tried, Toby would have no idea of the effectiveness of the method. All he could do was try.

--

"Toby's gettin' _ideas_, Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett said matter-of-factly as she plonked Mr. Todd's dinner down on his dresser that evening.

Mr. Todd turned and frowned at her. "What ideas?" He was thinking of his and Mrs. Lovett's business of killing and cooking.

"He's beginning to wonder about… _you_ _know…_ 'grown up things'." Mrs. Lovett said. She evidently, was not.

Mr. Todd stared blankly at her. "And…"

"And I think you should talk to him about it." She dove in, knowing what the answer would be.

"Ahahaha." He said shrilly, shaking his head wildly. "Oh no! You are _not_ sucking me into any of your… weird, little… _schemes_-

"Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett said flatly, putting her hands on her hips. "May I remind you that my 'weird, little schemes' were what gave you a second chance at getting your hands on the judge."

"I'm not being dragged into this." He said stubbornly from the window. "If you want to educate the boy about those sorts of… _things_ then you can be the one to do it. And good luck to you, he's as dense as two planks of wood."

Mrs. Lovett gave a huffy sigh. "I always end up doing _everything_ around here. You're a sorry excuse for man-

"That wasn't what you were squealing the other day." Mr. Todd leered; thrilled to have a retort to her jibes for once. "You know… in the bathtub… on your back-

The effect was greatly to his liking, she went extremely red across most of her face and neck.

"Shut up!" She spluttered, flustered. "You big…stupid… _girl_."

Mr. Todd smirked unapologetically at her and pushed past her to take his dinner from the dresser. Mrs. Lovett glowered at him as he leant against the wall with his plate and continued to watch as he toyed half-heartedly with the stew. She didn't expect him to eat it; usually she collected his meals untouched… which maybe explained his constant crankiness. She knew _she_ got cranky when she missed a meal and Mr. Todd had missed like… loads. Mrs. Lovett's maths skills weren't as sharp as they could have been…

However, surprisingly Mr. Todd took a tentative nibble of the stew, although he seemed to be working hard to swallow it. Mrs. Lovett watched in mild interest while he ate as though it required every fibre of his being to eat the stew. After a few tentative mouthfuls, he noticed her staring at him.

"What…" He said, frowning and looking up and down and side to side. "What are you staring at…"

"You're eating." Mrs. Lovett said mildly.

Mr. Todd cocked an eyebrow at her. "That I am…" He obviously didn't understand the wonder Mrs. Lovett was experiencing at actually seeing food pass through his lips and pass down his throat. It didn't seem natural for him to eat. Mr. Todd just didn't eat…

"I don't think I've actually seen you eat something before." Mrs. Lovett said, shrugging.

"Mmm. I'm not surprised. Some people have this _thing_ where they don't like to be continually stared at when they're trying to eat… I dunno… maybe it's just me." Mr. Todd said, going back to his dinner.

Mrs. Lovett gave herself a little shake and busied herself with collecting Mr. Todd's dirty clothes for washing. "God, Mr. T. Why the hell does one man need so many damn shirts…" She piled them up in her arms and headed back to the door. "I never get a moment's peace… what with you up here like some angst-ridden teenager and Toby beginning to become all curious… it's like being in a bleeding mad'ouse…" She left, swinging the door closed behind her.

--

Toby decided that he couldn't make any rash choices this time around when it came to Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett. He had learnt that his previous, less than subtle schemes had been largely ineffective and this had to be the time where every action was only performed for the greater, lucrative purpose of getting Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd hitched before they were grey and old… although on the other hand, that could make it much easier if they were too old to possess any real will power… but Toby wasn't sure if he wanted to wait quite that long…

So it was back to the 'make them really mad' plan. Which could either result in a wedding… or a funeral depending on how things panned out, what with Mr. Todd's dreadfully short temper and Toby's dreadfully short legs… Well, it had to be worth the risk. This could be his last resistance to the forces of sinful… coexistence… All it took was the right level of meddling…

Which brought Toby to Mr. Todd's boudoir, late one Sunday evening while said baker and barber were in their usual household haunts, which in itself was an act worthy of praise for a boy who was once too afraid of Mr. Todd to even meet his eye. The thought of what could happen to Toby if Mr. Todd discovered him in his private room was highly distasteful but Toby had had to screw his courage to its sticking place to go ahead with what could be his last ditch attempt at forcing Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett together.

He rifled his way through Mr. Todd's very few personal belongings, carelessly tossing clothes and items over his shoulder as he did. The bed, which had been a mess of strewn covers and sheets, he neatly made. All acts pointedly performed for the sake of one foul tempered barber, who when he came up and found his room with evidence of someone's being there, would most likely do something stupid, what with his tendency to take to screaming and flouncing about dramatically whenever things didn't go quite his way.

Toby was in the middle of throwing Mr. Todd's socks about the room when he thought he heard someone on the stairs and with his heart in his mouth. darted out of the room, throwing the door shut behind him and flinging himself into Mr. Todd's shop. He wasn't sure if it had actually been someone ascending the stairs or his fear of being caught was making him hear things but he didn't waste time in darting downstairs and slipping into Mrs. Lovett's kitchen, which was mercifully unlocked or he'd have to explain to her how he came to be locked outside at seven at night.

There was no sound emitting from the living room, which Toby found highly unusual when Mrs. Lovett's chatter was usually always audible along with Mr. Todd's occasional grunts and 'harrumphs'. Toby slipped in from the kitchen and found Mrs. Lovett slumped in her chair, staring disinterestedly at some sort of novel while Mr. Todd was sat stiffly on the settee, staring into the fire grate with his usual brooding frown. Toby edged to a chair as subtly as he could manage and to his relief, neither looked up on his entrance. Both were obviously too involved in doing whatever they were doing… which looked suspiciously to Toby like nothing…

Toby wasn't sure what he was expecting from Mr. Todd when he discovered his untidied room, besides fly into a blind rage. He thought a dramatic marriage proposal with lots of passionate arm gestures and flourishing of hands would have been very satisfying. But he _supposed_ he'd settle for Mr. Todd down on one knee, professing his love to Mrs. Lovett in the light of the dying fire. It would have to do, he supposed.

It turned out that he had a lot of time to ponder on these hopeful outcomes because Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd seemed content in their idle states for roughly the next hour, to the end of which Toby was becoming more than a little bored and impatient. It was beyond him how anyone could sit around doing bugger all for an entire _hour_ without clawing their own eyes out, but Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett seemed well learned in the art. He was on the verge of screaming at them both in frustration and pushing them out of the door himself when suddenly, _amazingly_... Mr. Todd jerked on the sofa... and Toby's eyes snapped towards him. The barber seemed to have been in some sort of… fire gazing trance for the last hour, but he had _definitely_ jerked. Toby watched him anxiously, praying that the jerk would be followed by some sort of bodily suggestion that he was _finally_ going to _leave_ the settee and move _out_ of the room and end his reign of fire staring immobility.

"Going to bed, love?" Mrs. Lovett remarked suddenly, making Toby and Mr. Todd both give a jump of fright after the thick silence that had prevailed for the past hour.

Mr. Todd glowered at her. The woman had eyes like a hawk… He pointedly didn't reply and instead got heavily to his feet and headed for the hall. For the past hour he had been pondering fixedly on how he could best inflict stress and anguish on the unknowing baker in the shortest time possible. If his exploits seemed even mildly immature to him, Mr. Todd wasn't admitting it.

Mrs. Lovett watched him slink out of the living room and heard his footsteps on the stairs, feeling unsurprised but a little stung that he had resumed his brooding, moody self within days of their second romantic encounter. A voice in the back of her mind kept coldly reminding her that just because she was desperately in love with Mr. Todd didn't mean he saw her as anything more than a meal ticket… in more ways than one. But she couldn't help letting her heart rise every time she thought he was leaning towards her… and away from his 'dead' wife… Even if he was just using her for sex, which the smart arsed voice told her was more than likely, she knew that she wasn't strong enough to say 'no'. Not when she knew that he could just get it from somewhere else if she refused. Even if she couldn't ever have him the way she wanted, she just had to take what little attention he gave her and be grateful. She was most definitely a beggar when it came to Mr. Todd's attentions and was in no position to be a chooser.

She rearranged herself in her chair and finally put down the novel she had been pretending to read for the past hour or so, while really watching Mr. Todd from the corner of her eye, while he sulked and brooded on the settee. With a tired sigh she sunk into her chair and closed her eyes, exhausted and disenchanted. What she wouldn't have given for Mr. Todd to give up his revenge plight… his masculinity plight and open his eyes to the willing woman he had right in front of him. A woman who couldn't have cared _less_ about his masculinity, lack or excess there of. Who couldn't have cared _less_ if he secretly wore woman's clothing and listened to Kylie Minogue and Cher- She paused. Well… maybe she _would_ have cared somewhat… but not for the same reasons that Mr. Todd would. Not for image… masculinity… insecurity… and the like.

Suddenly she heard heavy footsteps on the floorboards above her and then on the staircase and she sat up with a frown, wondering what could have happened now to send the barber into a frenzy. There seemed to be so many things that agitated him… He was such a temperamental man…

"What now…" She muttered, getting to her feet and not noticing Toby's furtive look from under his eyelids.

She moved towards the door, preparing herself for yet another complaint from the barber, and was just reaching the doorway when Mr. Todd swung around the corner and almost collided with her. For a half a second, he simply stared at her and then suddenly, with no warning, he grabbed her by the throat and pushed her backwards down over the arm of the settee. Startled by the sudden attack, she plummeted downward, unable to save herself from falling. She scrambled back on the settee, removing her legs from their painful position on the arm and watched Mr. Todd with a look of bewildered alarm.

"Mr. T! What on earth-

"Shut up!" He snarled, looking truly menacing towering above her with his eyes flashing and his hand gripping his ever-present razor at his side. "Have you been in my things?"

Mrs. Lovett stared at him with a mix of panic and confusion. "Wh-what are you-

"Did you…" He moved closer to her, the razor unnervingly close to her chin. "… go into _my_ room and touch _my_ belongings without _my_ permission…" His voice sounded misleadingly calm but it was unsteady with badly disguised fury.

"No!" Mrs. Lovett spluttered, widened eyes fixed on his razor and mentally racking her brain for whether this was true or not. She usually stayed far away from Mr. Todd's room and she couldn't think why she would have gone in there.... unless she had subconsciously forgotten his 'no cleaning' rule and ventured in to dust. Though from what her overworked, frayed memory could gather, she hadn't been in there since... since Mr. Todd had moved in, months ago.

"Don't _lie_ to me." He spat, touching the razor to her chin and forcing her eyes up to his. "I won't tolerate you _lying_ to me."

Mrs. Lovett felt a flare of anger at being treated like a scolded child caught stealing from the cookie jar but her fear was much greater than her anger so she kept her tongue.

"What do you think gives you the right to put your hands all over my possessions?" He snapped, blinded by his fury at her interference. "You have no right to go anywhere near my room… anywhere near my…" He broke off, his voice shaking slightly.

Mrs. Lovett's eyes moved slowly from the razor to Mr. Todd's face, contorted with anger and something else she couldn't quite place… panic…? She frowned slightly. What was he hiding up there to make him so… agitated that she had been in his things? Besides instruments of torture and madness, she supposed…

"Stay out of my room." He said shortly, turning on his heel and stalking out of the living room.

Mrs. Lovett stayed frozen where she was, taken aback by his behaviour and false accusation. Then, shaking her head, she got unsteadily to her feet and neatened her hair and dress. She didn't notice Toby slinking out of the room behind her.

--

It really didn't make sense. All his research had pointed to one predicted outcome and nothing of the sort had occurred. How had it gone wrong? _How?!_

Toby paced the narrow hallway, replaying the evening's proceedings in his mind for the hundredth time, trying to pinpoint exactly what had gone wrong. The anger had been there. _Definitely _been there… so why hadn't the passionate marriage proposal he'd been expecting not followed…?

Perhaps it only worked in certain circumstances… or if Mr. Todd's anger levels were at a certain point…? Maybe Toby had to make him _angrier_? He frowned as he came to a halt at the starch opposite wall. No… Mr. Todd had been _very_ angry. Toby had never seen him so close to slitting Mrs. Lovett's throat before in his life. If he goaded him any further, he was fearful of what might happen in one of Mr. Todd's heated passions.

But, it was his last chance… his very last chance and he had to make it count… Although, on the other hand, if that meant endangering Mrs. Lovett's life he wasn't sure if it was worth it… _Sigh…_ Everything was so difficult… everything was so complicated… He just needed the clue… the key to using their anger effectively…

He rested his head against the wall, staring down at his toes in their frayed, worn work boots. It was so much harder than he'd thought… there seemed to be so much more to it than just making them have… se… He took a deep breath…. Se… He swallowed hard, trying to make the taboo word form on his young, naive lips… se…x… He gave a shudder. It was the first time he'd formed the word in his mind after a lifetime of being told it was a filthy, immoral activity. And… surprisingly… he had found it quite… easy to say. It hadn't burnt a hole through his tongue… his eyes hadn't started bleeding… he didn't _feel_ any more immoral than before… But he didn't know or understand how two people, who weren't married, could carry on like that and not fear the consequences that Toby had had shoved down his throat all his young life… It was all much too confusing for a twelve-year-old ex-work boy who had been raised amongst Beadles and priests, all staunch in their reminder about the immorality of… se…x and it's related… eh… 'particulars'…

He shook his head and pushed himself upright from the wall. He had to stop thinking and start doing. Why hadn't Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett fallen in each other's arms? What had gone wrong…? He frowned in deep concentration, replaying the proceedings yet again in his mind. Mr. Todd had been angry… he'd confronted Mrs. Lovett… he'd had an outburst _at_ Mrs. Lovett… but… Toby froze in slow realisation… Mrs. _Lovett_ hadn't been angry at all… she'd been… well, terrified. (And who could blame her really…?)

Perhaps… perhaps it hadn't worked… because Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd _both_ had to be angry? A grin crept slowly onto his face and he span towards his bedroom. He was back in business. He still had time. He still had a chance. Lots of chance, in fact. Lots of chances to annoy and frustrate Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett out of their wits and into their wedding rings.

--

Mrs. Lovett padded up to Mr. Todd's barbershop armed with his breakfast the following morning, her heart beating ridiculously fast beneath her bosom. She would have asked Toby to brave the journey up to the barber's lair but Toby was nowhere to be found and with the shop opening time pending and various odd jobs to be tended to she didn't have time to hunt for the boy all around the place. She had never dreaded seeing the barber so much in her life. His wild outburst the night before had shaken her. More badly than any of his outbursts had shaken her before, because this time he'd seemed so… _close_ to going just that little bit too far and losing it completely. That temper of his… it was lethal. It was a good thing that she'd been ignorant of the full extent of it before now or she would have been a lot more careful of her various jibes and quips. Sometimes she forgot that he was a murderer and did have the ability and capacity to take someone's life without a second thought. Sometimes she forgot just how damaged he was... On the surface… he seemed perfect… but below the skin… like a slowly bleeding haemorrhage… was a soul that was blackened, frayed and hacked away at by his years of hardships and the murderous anger at the world that seemed to have forsaken him.

She shivered as she reached the hall. Sometimes it was better to turn a blind eye to the rotten core of a seemingly beautiful apple. Sometimes it hurt less to pretend that you didn't know. Sometimes when you loved someone enough, as Mrs. Lovett did Mr. Todd, you blinded and deafened yourself to a person's flaws and imperfections… but when, one day, they're revealed in all their wretched imperfection, it almost destroys you because often… their imperfection is not returning the intense ardour you feel for them. It was like… feeling pain… a terrible, sharp, crippling pain… after being numb for years and years… Mrs. Lovett knew all about it. She was so numb… so blind… that she was sure that if Mr. Todd one day turned out to not be what she had built him up in her mind to be… a god… her one, true love… it would drive her to madness… She would be consumed by it. The very idea of Mr. Todd never returning her love for him was… was… there wasn't a word that could communicate the pain…

She shivered again as she reached the door. Love was a dangerous thing. But unrequited love… was another species of animal altogether. One entirely unforgiving and entirely cruel in its outcome.

--

"Come in."

Mr. Todd spoke calmly as he stood behind his barber's chair, clutching his razor in one hand and the back of the chair with the other, gripping it very tightly, as if for support. Mrs. Lovett's knock at the barbershop door had seemed… feeble… if one could even speak about a knock that way… it was like… she was… frightened…? Well, Mr. Todd thought admittedly, maybe there was _some_ cause for that sentiment. After all, his behaviour the night before had been an all time worst for him towards Mrs. Lovett. He'd come… _this close_ to doing something… terrible. He paused. That was strange… had he just said that killing Mrs. Lovett would be… 'terrible'…? He frowned, confused by this sudden thought.

Slowly the door opened and Mrs. Lovett appeared, not bustling in like she owned the place as usual but standing at the door as though she didn't quite dare enter. She looked even paler than usual.

"Breakfast." Mrs. Lovett's voice sounded thin and frail, like she was trying with all her might to inject her usual cheer and good nature into it and not quite succeeding.

For a few moments, both of them stood there, staring at each other in silent apprehension, both wondering all the while what the other was thinking. Mrs. Lovett was clutching the loaded tray very tightly and in between thoughts of '_Oh my God… why is he looking at me like that…?' 'Is he still angry with me?' 'Should I just leave?' _Were thoughts of '_… Shit. This bloody tray is heavy…'_

Meanwhile, the barber stared back at her with similarly gripping questions in his mind: '_Is she frightened of me?' 'What's wrong with her?' 'Why has she brought me breakfast…?' '...Oooh is that bacon…?' _(_Bad Sweeney._ That's not good for your cholesterol.) Etc…

"So…" The barber started awkwardly, his eyes shifting from the baker to the wall to the baker again. "… do you like… stuff…"

Mrs. Lovett stared at him for a few moments in silence, her look similar to that of a convicted criminal mounting the gallows changing slowly to that of annoyed disbelief.

"Really. Mr. Todd." She sounded remarkably irritated for someone who had just the night before been thrown across her settee and threatened by the barber at… 'razor point'. "You can't just threaten me one moment and then assume we can continue on as usual the next."

Mr. Todd was slightly taken aback by this. "I didn't _threaten _you." He sounded remarkably offended for someone who had just the night before thrown an unarmed woman across a settee and loomed over her like some angel of death in striped pants and boofy hair…

"As good as." Mrs. Lovett was back to her usual self, as she slammed his breakfast down onto his dresser and turned to look at him with her hands placed almost challengingly on her hips. His feeble excuse for an apology… if it even _was_ an apology… had irked her more than if he had ran at her with a teapot. "You make me want to…_ scream _sometimes." She said in intense frustration, stamping her foot on the worn floorboards.

Mr. Todd tried to ignore the double meaning to her words and stared back blandly at her, deciding it was better to just ride- _wait_ out her angry outburst and then maybe shag her in the barber chair. Anger always seemed to make her more susceptible to fraternization. Which was all the more reason to allow her anger to flow rather than to do something stupid like attempt to 'calm her down'. Pfft. Whoever came up with _that_ idea obviously didn't get much sex.

"I mean, who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" Mrs. Lovett was on a roll now. "You're bloody _mother_? Although you bloody well treat me like I am. I do all your laundry, I do all the cleaning and cooking and I put up with all your rubbish, day in and day out like a bloody saint and do I ever hear a word of thanks? Not on your life!"

Mr. Todd nodded mildly at her, not registering a single word of her rant.

"And you haven't even_ apologised_ for accusing me of doing something I never did! _Break_ _into your room_! Ha! You think I have time to screw around in your mess when I have about a hundred other things to do?"

He wished she's just shut up… this was all becoming very tedious… He fidgeted impatiently where he was, glancing at the barber's chair and back at her, as through trying to send her a telepathic message... _Shut up and let me shag you..._

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" She snapped, glaring at him while he stared back glassy eyed at her. Evidently she hadn't heard his fool proof telepathic message...

He nodded again vaguely. "Oh God yeah. Riveting... I agree wif everything you just said..." He glanced at her, sideways. "Wanna shag?" He felt confident of her answer and was rather surprised when, rather than fall into his arms like she usually did, she seemed to look more likely to run at him with a tea pot...

After a few moments of dagger eyes at him she finally spoke, in an icy, very unpromising voice shag-wise. "You just don't get it, do you?"

She turned on her heel and stalked from the room, slamming the door with all her might as she went. The room shook with the impact as Mrs. Lovett's footsteps stomped away down the hallway. Mr. Todd watched her go with a cocked eyebrow. _Women…_

--

Mrs. Lovett burst into the kitchen and immediately slammed her leg into the kitchen table in her haste.

"_Bloody hell_!" She roared, kicking the table with all her strength. "_Stupid, bloody, hell born table!"_

It took her a few moments in her fury to realise that Toby had apparently taken it upon himself to open the shop for her. The handful of early customers was staring at her, many in mid bite, amazed by her sudden outburst. Mrs. Lovett stared back at them.

"GOD DAMN IT!" She bawled, storming out of the shop.

_End of Chapter Eighteen_


	19. Toby's Last Attempt Part Two

Do you know what I would find very amusing in fanart form (if I actually had the ability to draw…)? Or maybe even a fanfic if I worked it around a bit….? A Sweeney Todd… (bear with me)… PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN CROSS OVERRRR XD Well... a Sweeney Todd/a-line-i-found-funny-in-potc cross over… But anyways. Now you knoooow when Mrs. Lovett changes from her frumpy, dirty old pie wench type outfit at the beginning to her frilly, pretty gown in the final scene… (or her beach type, stripy dress in the 'By The Sea' song… either one could work *shrug*)…? Weeeeell this is what… SHOULD have happened… in relation to Mr. Todd's reaction anyways XD Lalalalalalala XD

**Mr. Todd: *_glare_*** Mrs. Lovett… _what _are you wearing…

**Mrs. Lovett: **A dress… Mr. Todd…

_Silence. 1...2…3…4…5-_

**Mr.** **Todd: **_See here_, Mrs. _Lovett_. That frilly-pretty-gown-that-you-wear-in-the-final-scene doesn't suit you at _all_. It should be a frumpy, dirty old pie wench type dress or nothing…

**Mrs.** **Lovett**: *_**glower**_*

**Mr. Todd: **… I happen to have no frumpy, dirty old pie wench type dress in my barbershop ;D

**Mrs. Lovett**: …

Yes. Yes, I am immature XD Anyways I'd better get on with the show…

Argh. How did I let myself take this long with one chapter. I'm actually disgusted by own slowness. *Shakes head* Sigh. We'll blame it on Christmas and New Year's, shall we. Yes, yes we shall XD

Now. This chappy is like angst city for me. I usually don't go near angst but... I've suddenly got this hankerin' for some angst... so here it be. Although, in saying that. Mr. Todd isn't about to start slitting his wrists and jacking off to Marilyn Manson music... (no jibe intended, I LIKE Marilyn Manson.) But it's bit more evil than all the past chapters put together so you know... be prepared youngin's... *shifty eyes*... In saying THAT, my angst is rather soft compared to most. Mine's like... Mr. Todd stubbed his toe on the stove... compared to some of the more hardcore angst but, you know, whatevs XD It's a bit short and sweet but I think the next chapter will be rather large so... this is just the prelude, k's? XD

Enjoy! And sorry for the hideous delay... it won't happen again... well... it might but... you know... *trails off incoherently*... _

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Toby's Last Attempt (Part Two): 

It All Goes Horribly Wrong...

Mrs. Lovett wasn't a big drinker. She really, honest to God, wasn't. The liquor cabinet was usually well stocked with all the alcohol one woman (or overindulged workhouse boy) could ever want, but she rarely reached for the gin bottle during the week, besides the odd half-tumbler of gin before bed every now and again. Therefore, it somewhat broke routine that she was now half way through her third tumbler and it was mid morning on a Tuesday.

"I'll have a nervous break down one of these days… I just know it…" She mumbled, as she lay limply in her fireside chair, turning the near empty tumbler around and around between her fingers and staring blankly up at the stained ceiling as though transfixed.

She lifted the remainder of the gin to her lips, drained the tumbler and dropped it flaccidly over the side of the armchair. It hit the floor with a dull thud and rolled away across the floor, coming to a halt at the patched boot toes of the overindulged work boy himself.

Toby watched his mistress anxiously from the doorway, still taken aback by her sudden outburst in the kitchen. One moment she was fussing about the kitchen, frightened out of her wits to take Mr. Todd his breakfast (Toby had seen it all himself from a dark corner in the hallway, carefully out of her sight to avoid being supplied the unpleasant task himself) and the next she was in a rage- storming and _cursing_ in front of customers! It was very unlike Mrs. Lovett.

Toby had suddenly realised that he hadn't really seen Mrs. Lovett _ever_ lose her temper. She usually seemed perfectly poised and in control of her emotions, the perfect hostess with her bland smile and simple, cheerful manners. Toby wasn't sure what had set her off but he _wanted_ to know. If he worked out the trigger then he would know how to harness Mrs. Lovett's anger by using whatever it was that made up the very short list of annoyances that drove Mrs. Lovett to do a Mr. Todd and take to screaming and storming about.

"Mrs. Lovett…" He whispered, edging closer to the edge of her chair. "Marm?"

Mrs. Lovett jerked slightly, she seemed slightly out of sorts. Her head was back and her skin seemed grey and papery. Toby knelt by her arm.

"Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" He said, still in a hushed voice as though talking to someone on their deathbed and not just to a slightly drunk, very dejected baker woman.

It took her a few moments to reply, she kept closing and opening her eyes slowly, as though hoping to see something other than Toby when she looked again. "Of course I'm alright, love." She said at length with some effort. "I'm just a bit… tired. Thasall." She struggled to push herself upright and slumped back down a few inches in the chair. "Oh… Toby…" She gave up and went back to staring forlornly at the ceiling. "You wouldn't be an angel and look after the shop for me, would you? Just for a few hours… until… until I can…" Mentally she said 'face it', but out loud she said: "…finish having a little rest?"

Toby nodded feverishly, eager to be of use to his mistress. "Yes, yes. Of course." He scrambled to his feet. "I'll take care of everything for you."

Mrs. Lovett managed a weak smile at him. "Love. You're a-a-a… life saviour." She said through a badly stifled yawn.

Toby bowed his head hurriedly to her and then scuttled from the room, leaving Mrs. Lovett blissfully alone in the peace and quiet to brood on Mr. Todd and all matters connected to the wretched, hateful, infatuating barber.

--

Mr. Todd stared about his dimly lit, dishevelled room, casting an eye over the untouched bed, the scattered clothes and very few personal items. His boots, a rusted pocket watch, a tarnished silver frame holding the last, remaining picture he possessed of his wife and daughter. Previously he had shoved it in his drawer to avoid looking at it… Now it was tossed carelessly onto the bed, face down in the pile of wrinkled shirts and trousers. If someone _had _been in his room, they would have had the full luxury of looking at the picture, a picture Mr. Todd had managed to keep from Mrs. Lovett's eyes the entire time he'd been living above her shop.

He had an unsettling feeling that that was why he had reacted to Mrs. Lovett's snooping. The stupid picture. He shivered and glanced over his shoulder. No. Not 'stupid'. He shouldn't call his dead wife's picture 'stupid'. It didn't seem right. This sudden moral thought from a very immoral man had sprung mostly out of a sudden throb of panic at his flippancy towards the two women whom once his world had centred around, who had _been_ his world, before being cruelly snatched from him. Though, and this alarmed him far more than his familiar uncontrollable rage, he was beginning to feel... an unnerving sense of... calm. When he thought about his wife, his daughter, the judge who had taken them both away from him... it still stirred a very real anger and resentment within him but... there was something dampened about that anger. It had been an intense, burning agony when he had first heard of his wife and daughter's fate but now it felt more like... a dulling throb in the pits of his stomach, present but not noticeable. But that, far from contenting him, made him far more wary and cavalier when it came to Mrs. Lovett and his relationship... Or at least... it made him determined to _be_ more wary and cavalier when it came to Mrs Lovett and his relationship... He didn't feel he had done particularly well with the 'wary' part thus far...

He stared at himself in the tarnished vanity mirror for a few moments, savouring this sentiment. His face fell. He was _such_ a bad husband... He had slept with Mrs. Lovett twice. _Twice! _So much for 'avenging his wife'. All he'd been doing since her death was a having a slutty shag-fest with his landlady. This was all so depressing... His will power... or lack there of... had met a reckonable force in Mrs. Lovett and she certainly wasn't making things easier for him... or his masculinity... Stupid woman... He'd said it... thought it... _whatever_... a million times but... STUPID. _WOMAN_.

--

After two long hours of sitting motionless in the living room armchair, Mrs. Lovett began to feel the first niggling pangs of shame at her outburst. She couldn't afford to allow her emotions to play her like that. She had managed so well in the past to keep her emotions tightly bottled up, despite the odd tantrum at Mr. Todd, which she felt, in all honesty, was good for the sulky, self-centred bastard, but today she had allowed her frustration and anguish to better her in front of her costumers... in front of Toby. The impressionable, bright eyed youth she had tried so hard to protect from the mess of her and Mr. Todd's relationship. He didn't deserve to have her frustrations and problems piled on top of him. He was only... ten... eleven... twelve... eh... well, it didn't _matter_ what age he was, the point _was_... he was too young to be put upon by Mrs. Lovett's problems.

She sighed and pushed herself heavily out of the armchair with some difficulty. Her head hurt a little from her daytime indulgence but she pushed the pain from her mind. After all, she was no wimp; she could handle a little headache when there was work to be done. And she couldn't leave Toby in the shop all day... he was an eager little worker but... well, to be frank, God knew what he'd do if she didn't lend him some guidelines.

She wandered half-heartedly into the shop front but stopped short at the doorway in stunned disbelief. Where... was... _Toby_... The shop was still open, there were still customers there; craning their necks impatiently in search of a server and exchanging withering looks with one another but the young boy was not. Mrs. Lovett gaped at the abandoned shop. She had thought she could trust him! She had thought he was doing her a selfless favour! She had counted on him to run the shop for one or two measly hours and he had buggered off. Even if he _was_ just... twelve... eleven... ten... _whatever_... surely she could have entrusted him for _that _short period of time to mind the shop without him doing something as stupid and irresponsible as this. God. You really couldn't count on anyone but yourself these days...

With huffy reluctance she stomped into the shop and forced a cheerful smile onto her face, though it felt more like a manic grimace, badly masking the annoyance and suffering below. But maybe the boy had just... popped off to... go to the loo... or... God knew...

After ten long minutes of impatiently pushing pies into people's greedy, waiting hands, Mrs. Lovett knew Toby wasn'tcoming back. And she wasn't happy.

--

Toby _did_ feel somewhat guilty for betraying Mrs. Lovett's trust but he felt, after his months of loyal, unwavering service, he was long due a screw up. Besides, he told himself vaguely, it was all for her own good. That was the main thing.

He stepped quietly down the hallway towards Mrs. Lovett's bedroom, glancing over his shoulder, wary that said baker could awaken at any moment from her kinda-drunken stupor. He slithered into Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. Toby was very good at slithering. If he wasn't a Victorian work-boy, he was sure he'd be like... a python or something. Anyway. Toby _sssslithered _into Mrs. Lovett's bedroom and glanced around its dull, gloomy interior. The peeling wallpaper, the unmade bed, the dusty furniture. For a woman who seemed to spend most of her time cleaning, she apparently was remarkably unconcerned about her own living space.

He closed the door carefully behind him and looked around, glancing at the various trinkets and belongings sprinkled about the place. He was looking for something... but it couldn't be just anything. It had to be something special, or at least noticeable to the baker. He wandered over to the dresser. The top was a messy jumble of handkerchiefs, hair combs and the various useless little trinkets women often opt to have in their rooms. A china kitten with eerie, acid green eyes, a little painted plate of a bunch of roses, a powder puff (looking almost spotlessly clean without a trace of actual powder on it) and a neat, well kept little frame of a plump, bald man in an old fashioned frock coat... Toby paused, his eyes fastened to the picture. _That_ could be it. He was fairly certain that Mrs. Lovett wasn't particularly fussed about her dear dead Albert but she would almost certainly notice if her well-dusted picture of him suddenly disappeared mysteriously from her own room. Toby was sure of it.

So he pocketed the picture (with some difficulty, his pocket wasn't very large after all) and with a shifty glance around the room, _ssslithered_ back out of the door, making a beeline for his bedroom, diagonally across the hall from Mrs. Lovett's, where he intended to hide the picture and hide it well, under pain of death.

--

She was on the brink of a meltdown. The afternoon of slaving away in the shop without Toby's help had nailed that fact into her head. Most of the afternoon she had been on the very verge of snapping at the customers if one happened to be particularly choosy or was taking too long to decide whether they wanted 'beef' or 'pork'. As the day wore on she could feel her body tensing, her pulse quickening, her breath hitching, her eyes twitching. This was not healthy. She knew it and yet she had to pretend that she didn't. That everything was _fine_ and frickin' well dandy. She had to pretend with all her might that she didn't want to break down and sob uncontrollably right in the middle of the shop until Mr. Todd came and scooped her up and swore he'd marry her and never leave her alone to pine ever again... Yeah _right,_ and then she'd run for Prime Minster... Lord. She was so pathetic. She gave herself a violent shake in the two second interval that lapsed between the two last customers in the shop leaving and three more promptly arriving.

By four, she'd had enough. Or rather, she was almost collapsing where she stood, so she all but shoved the remaining customer out of the door, shut it and firmly turned the sign to 'Closed'. Then, without bothering to tidy the shop or dust away the flour that had accumulated over her front, she slouched into the living room and all but disintegrated into a chair.

Mrs. Lovett slung her head back, everything swimming before her eyes in dizzy exhaustion. She slowly closed her eyes and allowed the tiredness spread over her every limb.

She didn't notice someone slinking into the room from the hallway. (No, twasn't Toby. He _slithers_, remember.)

Mr. Todd looked at Mrs. Lovett lying limply in the chair, vaguely glad to see that she wasn't pottering around madly doing a trillion little odd jobs and chores as she often was at half past four in the afternoon. As he padded over the carpet towards her, Mr. Todd didn't really know what he was doing. He wasn't thinking. He wasn't considering what could happen or what he wanted to happen. He was just acting on an impulse which had struck him when he had been mooning over his deceased wife's picture. An impulse which once he wouldn't have dared or even have wanted to act on but one which now, after the past couple of months and all of the drama which had passed between him and the baker, seemed pale and undramatic in comparison to what he had been through.

When he neared her, she jerked her head slightly, sensing or hearing him. She opened her eyes and moved upright to look at her assailant but she didn't speak and neither did Mr. Todd. Mrs. Lovett didn't even seem to wonder as to why he was there or what he wanted. Instead, she looked... resigned. Pale. Silent. Unhappy. Tired. Resigned. And Mr. Todd knew as he looked at her, from the depths of her dark, blank eyes, that she submitted. That she was tired of fighting. That she submitted to Mr. Todd. And Mr. Todd felt a fierce blaze of victory as he stepped over her and dragged her out of the chair, bodily and forcefully.

He pushed her against the wall with no small amount of force but still, she said nothing and did nothing. She didn't react. She didn't protest. She didn't struggle. Even when he roughly set upon her neck, gnawing at her sensitive skin with passionate and violent fury. It must have been painful, Todd felt a trickle of her blood, released by his overzealous love bite, tumble down from the wound to her collarbone, caressing his lips. When he glanced up at her face, in between his assaults on her neck, he saw she was staring stonily ahead, not registering Mr. Todd in any way. Her stillness and failure to react somehow enraged Mr. Todd. He felt he had triumphed over her. Proved his own mental strength against hers and that she should grovel below him so he could savour his victory. But she wasn't and would not and Mr. Todd could feel the old feeling of cruel, cold fury stirring dangerously close to the surface. No longer directed at his wife's rapist but at this woman and her nerve to not bend to his will when he had proven his dominance and she had finally, rightfully submitted.

He grasped the loose material around the collar of her bodice and threw her bodily to the ground. She hit the floor with great impact and, for the first time, Mrs. Lovett cried out in pain. To Mr. Todd's immense satisfaction.

He immediately knelt over her, his thighs encasing her to prevent her escape, and forced his mouth over hers, he felt her breath hitch in her throat as his lips collided with hers. He lowered himself pointedly over her and while she still remained silent, he was sure he could see some shred of emotion in her eyes. Perhaps anticipation. Perhaps arousal. But mostly, panic. He could see and sense her panic. He didn't fully understand where this new fear sprung from but he wasn't sorry for it. After her past disrespect and flippancy he was vindictively pleased of her new found fear of him.

He slammed her head roughly back against the carpet, she gasped roughly but said nothing. He forced a hand over her throat to keep her pinned against the ground while he forced her skirts up with his free hand and fumbled with her underclothes, ripping them down from her hips while she struggled slightly underneath him in pain and alarm. He kept the hand on her throat and moved the free hand to the buttons on his trousers, ripping them impatiently from their seams and forcing his trousers down to his thighs. It was at this point that Mrs. Lovett managed to breath:

"Mr. Todd... stop..." From below him.

It was a clear and firm indication of Mrs. Lovett's distress but Mr. Todd was too blinded by his triumph over the baker, his own confused, tumultuous feelings and thoughts, the anger, arousal, aggression and resentment pumping violently through his veins, that he didn't heed her warning. He didn't stop. He proceeded and her whimpers of pain thereafter only made him slam her harder against the floor in retaliation and more fiercely proud in his final success in asserting dominance over Mrs. Lovett.

--

Toby had finally opted for stuffing the picture into his bottom drawer. He was almost certain that Mrs. Lovett would never think that Toby had taken it, especially after the incident with Mr. Todd's room being... eh... mysteriously broken into... which would hopefully lead to her assuming that this was some sort of immature revenge attempt and not an immature... trying-to-force-two-people-to-get-married-against-their-will attempt...

The picture was safely put away under the faded handkerchiefs and broken boot laces in the bottom drawer and Toby slipped out of his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

There was silence throughout the house; he couldn't hear Mrs. Lovett's usual movement in the kitchen or the voices of the customers or even Mr. Todd's rhythmic footsteps above him. The unusual, almost... eerie silence unnerved Toby. He stood frozen at the doorway, ears perked for a footstep or a voice. There were none.

Tentatively he padded up the hallway towards the kitchen, wondering if Mrs. Lovett had awoken and found that he had abandoned his post or whether he had gotten away with it. When he reached the kitchen he found it quiet and empty. The door was shut, the sign turned firmly to 'Closed' and the table covered in flour and clutter that hadn't been cleaned away, highly unusual for Mrs. Lovett. He frowned over the silent scene. It was almost unnatural for the house to be this still and lifeless.

He wheeled around out of the kitchen. As he was at the doorway, he suddenly heard the gentle creaking of the floorboards in the living room along with the rustling of what sounded like the voluminous skirts of Mrs. Lovett. With a relieved sigh, he turned down the hallway and then into the living room and stopped short at the doorway.

Mr. Todd was standing with his back to Toby at the far wall, his eyes downward. Toby couldn't see what he was going but he looked to be fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Mrs. Lovett was standing motionless in the middle of the room, staring stonily past Toby. Her hair looked even more dishevelled than usual and her dress creased and covered in flour still.

Toby stared at them both, baffled by this behaviour. This had never been prescribed to him from his experience with love, marriage and all things fluffy. Mrs. Lovett looking so icy and hard, like she had been sucked dry of her emotion where she stood. Toby looked slowly from Mr. Todd to Mrs. Lovett. He had been so sure that the missing picture would drive both of them into terrific anger and then, finally, love... but now he wasn't so sure. He couldn't sense love in this room. Only a stifling sense of... resentment. He shivered.

Mrs. Lovett didn't seem herself. After a few moments of silence, she suddenly came to life and walked straight past Toby and away down the hallway. Toby gazed after her and then looked back at Todd. He had turned away from the wall and was calmly buttoning his cuffs. Toby watched him. Todd didn't look at him, he seemed to be avoiding Toby's gaze. Toby was more confused than ever. This was not what he wanted. This was not something he understood. And he was sensing that Mrs. Lovett's finding the missing picture could make things much worse.

Todd pulled on his coat, fallen forgotten on the floor and again buttoned it slowly and carefully, while Toby watched on, baffled and unsettled. Todd finished buttoning his coat and after a brief glance down at his attire he looked up. Not at Toby. Past him. He stood motionless at the far wall of the room and Toby stared at him, growing more uncomfortable with this turn of events.

Suddenly, as Toby and Todd stood opposite each other in stony silence, Mrs. Lovett whirled into the room, almost knocking Toby flat. Toby's eyes widened and he flattened himself again the wall as Mrs. Lovett stormed towards Mr. Todd, her eyes blazing.

"Give it back." The first words Toby had heard her speak to Mr. Todd all day, her voice was shaking, as was the hand she held out to Todd.

Mr. Todd stared at her, his countenance blank and non-responsive. Toby couldn't tell if he had heard Mrs. Lovett or not.

"Give it _back_." Mrs. Lovett repeated, her voice dangerously soft. Toby could only watch on in silent horror as his plans came into action before him. He'd made a mistake. This wasn't what he'd wanted... this didn't feel right to him, at all.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mr. Todd replied sneeringly. Toby gaped. Was Mr. Todd really as stupid as he thought he was... there was no way he was going to... oh, God... Toby could hardly watch.

Mrs. Lovett was silent for a few moments before she spoke, her voice somewhat level. "Mr. Todd... please give it back." This was his last chance, Toby knew it. It was all he could do not to start waving his arms about, screaming: _ABORT! ABORT! ABANDON SHIP! SHE'S GONNA BLOW!_

Todd looked back at Mrs. Lovett with cool detachment, seeming unaffected by Mrs. Lovett's obvious incensement. "I don't know what you are talking about." He said every word with a slight stress, a manner, Toby was sure, was deliberately used to further Mrs. Lovett's fury.

It didn't, at first, seem to work. Mrs. Lovett didn't react. She watched Mr. Todd in silence for a few moments and then she turned and walked away from him, towards the door. Toby caught sight of her face. Anger was visible in every detail and he felt himself cower back slightly against the wall, knowing that the anger was building pressure inside of her.

Without warning, it burst. Mrs. Lovett whirled around where she was and seemed to all but throw herself at Mr. Todd. It took Toby and Todd a moment to realise what had happened. Todd's flushed cheek told them excactly what had. Mrs. Lovett had _slapped_ Mr. Todd... Toby never thought he'd see the day...when Mrs. Lovett would prove to be such a _bloody idiot._ Was she 'effing _nuts_?! The guy had a case of cut throat razors for God's sake! Toby slapped a hand to his forehead. This was going to be uggggllllyyy...

Mr. Todd didn't seem to have fully registered what Mrs. Lovett had done; he was staring at her in disbelief. Mrs. Lovett raised the hand again but this time he was ready for her and snatched her tightly around the wrist before she could reach his face. And he wouldn't let go no matter how she struggled against him.

"Let me go, you... _bastard_..." She was saying in between her struggling and clawing at his face. "Let go... LET GO. I'll kill you, you hear?" She was becoming more hysterical the more Todd resisted her attacks. "How dare you take it? How _dare_ you take it! What right do you have! What right?"

Mr. Todd grabbed both her arms to keep her from striking him; his face flushed from Mrs. Lovett's attack and the effort of keeping her from clawing his eyes out.

"Oh, God. I hate you." Mrs. Lovett suddenly stopped her assault on Mr. Todd's face and fell limp in Mr. Todd's grip. Her body was suddenly racked with shuddering sobs. Toby was taken aback, sinking, if possible, further down against the wall. "Get off me." She snapped, yanking her wrists from Mr. Todd's grasp and turning on her heel, tears still wet on her cheeks but her face set in fury against them. She passed Toby without a glance and disappeared down the hallway.

Mr. Todd watched her go in silence, his cheeks still burning (one slightly more so than the other). Toby watched on. Idiots. Idiots. Idiots. Idiots. COULDN'T ADULTS DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!

Mr. Todd obviously didn't see Toby glowering at him from the corner. He brushed off his coat and made his leave, his footsteps echoing on the stairs as he ascended to the barbershop.

_End of Chapter Nineteen_


	20. Revenge Doesn't Solve Anything

_And they woke up and it was all a dream..._

Nah, just kidding XD

**Author Notes:** Well, here's the last installment of Mas Chrons for you. It's pretty epic lol, by far the longest chapter I've written and I hope to God it doesn't disappoint and gives you lots of laughs and 'wtf' moments. I love to make you laugh XD Anyways. You don't know how much I love reviews. They are just so hugely, amazingly encouraging and exciting to find so please don't be shy. Thank you to everyone who reviewed so faithfully in the past, I love you all loads. Thank you to all who read it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it and I'm sure I'll have something else for you in the future.

It may be a while before anything by me pops up because I just started university. So the earliest I can really promise you anything is April through to June. I'm really sorry about that but a good, long break will get all my creative juices flowing so I'll be able to hopefully deliver you some more laughs in the future, most likely featuring our dear friends, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. They're such good sports. I don't think any other writer has tortured them as much as I have, poor dears. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to review, I love them and thanks for all the lovely feedback throughout this story :)

**Disclaimer: I am the lizard Queen! But sadly, not Tim Burton...**

**The Masculinity Chronicles**

Revenge Doesn't Solve Anything

Mr. Todd burst into his barbershop in a flurry of panic. He hadn't just done... what he thought he'd done... had he...? Oh God no. No... surely... he wouldn't be _that_ stupid...

He stood in the open doorway, frozen in a growing sense of horror at his own lack of self control, his own blind and violent actions which half of him almost couldn't believe he'd actually been capable of. The last hour seemed to have passed in a confused whirl of breathless, tangled events in sharp succession. He only remembered a few things clearly... Mrs. Lovett's furious assault on his face... (he held a hand gingerly to the cheek in question)... her furious accusations ('How dare you take it!' rang fairly clearly in his mind)... and lastly and most gruesome of all... his own terrible crime against Mrs. Lovett which... somehow... seemed far worse than his past murders. Attacking a defenceless woman in that... manner... was a brand new low for Mr. Todd.

So, what could he do? What could he possibly do to undo the last hour's events? Mrs. Lovett would never forgive him... and why should she? He had done something ridiculously cruel and brash... even for him.

He exhaled heavily and slowly closed the door, as though closing the door on the rest of the house closed out all of his guilt, all of the mess he had caused.

He turned and stood in the middle of the darkened shop, staring expressionlessly out of the far window. He felt... limp... tired... and blank... like he didn't have the energy to think or even to try and begin to repair the damage he'd caused. It just seemed like his life was a series of violent, unhappy events transpiring one after the other. And this felt far from some sort of divine test, it felt more like... a curse. That must have been it. He was bloody well cursed... or damned. Whichever one forced once innocent men into murder and violence and... ravishment... He gave a shudder. What the hell had he become?

He felt the familiar troubled frown fall onto his face. It was odd... He put a hand to his furrowed forehead. He hadn't felt that grim frown for... a short while at least. As if for a short while he hadn't felt quite so hard done by. The last few weeks... or was it months, he didn't quite know... had been tiring and dreadful... but... sadly and horribly ironically... they had been the happiest few weeks... or months... he'd had in... fifteen years... Fifteen long years. What an odd and unsettling thought... And to think it was due to the infuriating Mrs. Lovett... Ugh. That was by far the most unsettling thing of all... or was this appalling person he'd become the most unsettling thing of all?

He blinked as he suddenly realised that as he had been standing there, staring into space, darkness had almost completely fallen outside and he could see himself reflected in the grimy glass, standing there pale and unhandsome in full attire, with his coat still on. And there was his face and the familiar frown and the slightly downturned lips. Miserable looking bastard, really, he couldn't help thinking to himself as he stared at his reflection. What did she _see_ in him? That man in the darkened window? What the hell drove her to love such a... monstrous blight on society? Well, he reminded himself grimly, she probably didn't any longer. Who could love someone who had... done that to them... that terrible abuse of power. A power he had always wanted before now, for a reason that he now couldn't quite grasp. Now that he had the power he'd thirsted for, he felt he'd sold himself for something totally flighting and fickle. He had committed a terrible crime for a tiny, insignificant glimpse of power for a few minutes strung together in his lifetime...

With a sudden sickening realisation, he was abruptly struck with a thought that was far more disturbing than anything that had crossed his mind that evening: Didn't his actions make him just like ... _Judge Turpin_...? He had committed the same crime which had condemned Judge Turpin to death in Todd's eyes. The crime he had committed against Lucy Barker. The crime which had driven Todd to end the lives of so many men for her... _For her_... He curled his lip contemptuously at himself in the reflection. Who was he trying to fool? _For her? _How the hell would he even entertain the thought that she, his sweet, gentle dead wife, would _ever_ want him to commit murder in her name? He may have had his own romantic, sweeping ideas of vengeance and avenging his wife but she... she would despise him... if she were alive and knew his crimes... She would never want to see him again if she knew of the blood staining his hands. She would leave him... He felt the emotion build up behind his eyes and he fiercely blinked away the dampness. He hadn't shed a tear in fifteen years, he wouldn't now. He couldn't stand here in the dark, pitying himself like he deserved even a shred of pity from anyone. He had to act. His wife was dead and cold in her grave and he had committed crimes for which he may one day pay the price for but now, there was one crime he had to mend. A crime which he needed to put to rest if he ever wanted peace.

He had not sweated blood for the past fifteen years to allow himself to decay into a man like Judge Turpin. For, even as a murderer, he was still better than Judge Turpin and he intended to do what the Judge could and would not: amend his crime against the woman he had harmed.

--

There had been certain times in Nellie Lovett's life when she had felt an emotion beyond and more terrible than grief. One had been when she had been sixteen and the boy, or young man, who she had been feverishly admiring from afar for two whole years had suddenly become engaged to a prettier, fairer haired girl of higher station. Another had been when she had been eighteen and her parents had introduced her to Albert Lovett... her soon to be husband, a man twice her age and size... literally. And yet another had been when a certain (then) handsome barber, she had been desperately in love with for God knew how long, was abruptly transported for life when she had been twenty-five. That had been a particularly hard blow.

But none, not even losing him to Australia for fifteen long years, compared to the pain and anguish she felt at this moment. She felt as if every fibre she possessed was aching with a harrowing, agonizing hopelessness. She could hardly remember how she travelled from the living room to her bedroom; she had been so blinded by her own unhappiness. As soon as she had been in the privacy of her room, she had thrown herself down by her bed and, burying her head in her arms, had cried violently, for how long she didn't known. In the end her sobs had become more like agonized screams, as though she couldn't quite communicate her agony any other way.

Finally, exhausted, she had collapsed onto her bed, laying very still in the semi-darkness and letting her tiredness wash over her. She didn't sleep or close her eyes, she just lay, staring at her hand on the top of the covers and feeling oddly drained and blank. After what felt like hours of just laying and staring into nothingness, haunted by the events of the past day, she slowly pushed herself upright, and immediately shot a hand to her head as a throb of pain went through it. The result of her enthusiastic weeping, she assumed.

As she sat, holding a hand to her aching forehead, her eyes immediately fell on her dresser top, the empty space where Albert's portrait had sat for the many long years since his death, far more out of duty than real affection. However, it still struck her as a severely brazen act to _take_ something which was of obvious sentimental value to someone simply out of spite. And after she had _told _him that she _hadn't_ taken his _stupid_ picture of his _stupid_ dead wife. Hadn't he believed her and had wanted revenge? (Very likely, considering _his_ track record) Or had he simply wanted to do something nasty and underhanded? She didn't know. And she didn't know what had prompted the brutality following his theft of Albert's picture either. Perhaps, she didn't so much care. Or perhaps that had been what had prompted her outpouring of emotion. She didn't know. It had been an awful day.

She dragged herself off the bed and went to the dresser, running a hand over its surface and staring vaguely at the objects scattering it. Useless objects that she never used or didn't even like so much. A terribly ugly china cat her grandmother had given her for her eighth birthday, which she felt obliged to keep. A painted plate that she had found in the cupboard when she had been rummaging around for a broom one day (in a sudden motivation to clean) and had just kept because she hardly ever through anything away. And a powder puff that her dead husband had bought her one Christmas, God knew how many years ago and which she had _never _used. For the simple reason that she had no powder and could never be bothered to buy any. All these useless, stupid things that she didn't like, didn't care about, never used. And was Albert's picture any different? She never really looked at it. She dusted it once a month like a good, little widow and bought a new frame once in a while. Most of the time it was just shoved behind the mass of junk; a pale, little reminder of when she was respectable. Why did she care about the stupid thing anyway? She didn't know. It was just another confusing detail in the traumatic tangle of events which had spilt over the day, staining it as one of the very worst in her life. And, worst of all, she didn't know where to go from here. Life seemed meaningless. Life seemed to have met a dead end and, as far as she could see, there was no way back.

--

At some point in our lives we are eventually told that it is rude and improper to go meddling in the affairs of others. To be a 'sticky beak, a 'gossip monger', a 'nosy parker' and so on and so forth... Eventually parents make it clear that while it is perfectly acceptable to indulge in whatever morsels of gossip might come our way, maybe in the hope of extracting revenge on those who may have outshone them in some form of charity ball/school play/report card event, it isn't acceptable to go looking for trouble by stepping out of line and into the business of others.

Tobias Ragg had no parents. So this lesson had been missed... and unfortunately, it had been the one lesson which may have saved many people in the Todd/Lovett household a lot of trouble. True, a shagging or two had been achieved but that seemed pale in comparison to the strange and disturbing events which had taken place earlier that day. Especially to a boy like Toby who had seen months of painstaking work disintegrate before his eyes in a scene which seemed to have had no real prompt. Although, he wasn't about to throw all responsibility on the two adults (although they did seem incapable of natural human function sometimes), he did know that his taking Mrs. Lovett's picture had made the situation considerably worse than what it could have been and did admit it had been, in retrospect, a stupid decision.

And now, with his plan ultimately in ruins and that damned portrait still in his bottom drawer, he felt somewhat at a loss as to what... he was supposed to do... Was there really anything to be done? He felt that by meddling any further in the affairs of the two, he was tempting disaster. Perhaps he just had to accept that he had lost... His plan had failed and there was nothing he could do to right it. He just had to leave things as they were or risk damaging the situation beyond repair forever... or perhaps he had already done that...

--

The following morning, Mrs. Lovett rose before noon and cleaned the house top to bottom. Of course she didn't go anywhere near Mr. Todd's barbershop but nonetheless, every room, closet, corner was dusted and virtually every drawer, cupboard, nook and cranny was searched thoroughly for any sign of Albert's portrait. But, at 5pm, she collapsed exhausted into her favourite armchair empty handed. She felt completely disheartened and more certain than ever that her brazen assailant had taken the picture and was intent on keeping it. For what purpose, she wasn't sure. Perhaps just to infuriate and humiliate her.

But she couldn't risk another messy confrontation. Sometimes she forgot how violent and volatile he was. Maybe she was lucky to have avoided a scene like last night's before now. The whole situation made her more furious than ever. But more at herself than anyone. Furious that she hadn't known better, furious that she hadn't fought back, furious that she couldn't, even now, imagine her existence without him. Weak, impossible woman. When would she learn?

She frowned up at the ceiling. Life had seemed so much easier when they were just mass murdering lunatics. When sex was involved, everything became rather sticky. And yes, she was aware of the innuendo in that statement.

With a heavy sigh, she dragged herself out of the armchair and lumbered to the liqueur cabinet to review the gin levels. She seemed to have doubled her intake of alcohol ever since Mr. bleeding Todd had moved in. The stress, the anxiety, the ridiculous 'drink-offs' he insisted on dragging her into. Though, to be perfectly honest, she hadn't put up much of a struggle. She could have just said 'no' and that would have been the end of it. But... really, perhaps she had liked the attention he had been paying her over the last few weeks... _WELL, OF COURSE SHE BLOODY WELL HAD_. She had wanted him for God knew how long. How many people _wouldn't_ want the man they worshipped to pay months of attention to them, consumed by attempting to make them acknowledge their masculinity? Anyone who said 'no' was almost certainly lying. Mrs. Lovett had been lying to herself for months, insisting she found his masculinity obsession ridiculous and irritating but she had always known she was lying... If that even made sense... it probably didn't.

She glanced into the mirror fixed above the fire grate, without really seeing. If she could just _find _Albert's portrait, at least she could forgive Todd for that small crime against her. Why couldn't he just be the bigger man and give it back to her? That was his whole problem. He thought masculinity was all muscles and force and dominating all those around him but he didn't realise that it had to be balanced out by humility and graciousness. If there were two things Mr. Todd did _not_ have it was humility and graciousness. God, the man carried on like a two-year-old if he won (or lost) anything and as for _courage_, Mrs. Lovett was convinced that courageous men didn't flounce about killing people and having them cooked into pies. Robin Hood, now _he_ was courageous. He was courageous because he was selfless and noble. Mr. Todd was just sulky and cynical. And he didn't give his victims a chance to fight back. He just took out his own bitterness on... _arguably_ innocent men. Which _so_ didn't equal a hero. Though, as far as she knew, he had never wanted to _be_ a hero. Just a... masculine villain...

And now she was trapped in this wretched situation and she didn't know what she was supposed to do to resolve it. She couldn't forgive him so easily. A good night sleep may have calmed her down somewhat but, despite her tenderness for him, she was quite sure she would throttle him and feed him to a goat if she saw him before the next century. Though, admittedly, she couldn't just let him starve. That would just be mean. But she didn't want to come face to face with him until she was quite sure she wouldn't set upon him with a saucepan. Though, on the other hand, if she _intended_ to make this work she couldn't ignore him forever. _That _was just impractical. And kicking him out was obviously out of the question... She was sure he'd skip meals if she didn't keep him in check and with that sexual appetite of his to keep in check as well; she knew she was the only woman for the job. After all, despite everything they had been through, they were still accomplices... associates... occasional lovers. She couldn't just cast him off. They were... soul mates... 'Soul mates' was hardly a phrase you would often use in conjunction with 'Sweeney Todd' but she decided 'kinfolk' was somehow considerably less romantic. And also seemed to make her unintentionally imagine Mr. Todd in small green shorts and clogs, singing _The Lonely Goatherd. _And that was decidedly unnatural... Although who _didn't_ want to imagine Mr. Todd in tiny goatherd shorts? Perhaps nuns... But apart from that, who?

But, she was getting distracted... from the issue at hand by the image of Mr. Todd in _very_ small shorts... She gave herself a shake. That was quite enough of _that_. She needed to focus, Gosh darn it. And besides, after his nasty antics, he didn't deserve to feature in a fantasy wearing goatherd mini shorts and singing folksongs. That was a privilege, not a right.

Nonetheless... she still had to put up a terrific fight to keep a goofy smile from creeping onto her face whenever she (unintentionally of course) combined 'Mr. Todd' and 'tiny shorts' in the same image. Ah... it was good to have a dirty imagination...

"Mrs. Lovett...?"

Mrs. Lovett gave a convulsive jerk of surprise and flattened herself against the fire grate. "What?" She spluttered, somehow embarrassed to be caught in the middle of a Todd-and-tight-shorts perv session. To her slight relief, she found it was Toby and not Mr. Todd and relaxed very slightly. She mentally shooed away the tiny-short clad Mr. Todd.

"What are you doing?" Toby asked curiously, peering at Mrs. Lovett's semi-guilty expression.

"Nothing, dear." Mrs. Lovett replied airily, unintentionally patting her hair as she often did when she was uncomfortable or nervous. "What do you want?"

Toby was silent for a moment, examining her face intently in a way that made her vaguely uncomfortable. It was almost as if _he knew_ what she had been thinking about. It was all making her a bit flustered... She hurriedly busied herself with pretending to rearrange the mantelpiece ornaments to avoid looking at him.

In reality, Toby's all-knowing look had been completely unintentional or at best, misread. He instead was undergoing an inner struggle between his conscience and his louder, more commanding 'i-dont-want-to-get-into-serious-shit..ence'. At the moment the latter was putting up a very good argument. Something about horrific suffering and cut throat razors sawing through vital organs...

"Are you alright?" He managed to stammer after a few moments of agonizing silence.

Mrs. Lovett looked sharply at him, seeming to silently size him up. "I'm fine, dear. Why?" Her voice was calm, her face was nonchalant, if her terrified eyes hadn't been such a dead giveaway that inside she was repeating 'holy shit, holy shit, holy shit' to herself in a whirlwind panic then perhaps Toby would have been convinced. But, nonetheless, he had to be delicate. Mrs. Lovett had a habit of clamming up if she felt she was being interrogated. He had to keep it casual and non-intrusive.

"You weren't ill or anything, were you? Last night?" He asked anxiously, knowing full well that she hadn't been but feeling it was a good way to edge into the subject.

"Oh no, love!" She replied briskly, some of the panic seeming to ease from her eyes. "I was just a little tired last night and you know what Mr. Todd's like. So demanding and pushy all the time..." She fell into her armchair and stretched out her legs in front of her. "Don't you worry about us, dear. It's all grown-up things that you needn't concern yourself with."

Toby found that amusingly ironic but said nothing. His thoughts had strayed to the portrait still sitting in his bottom drawer. One of the only rooms which hadn't been touched by Mrs. Lovett's cleaning frenzy that day was Toby's room which she had perhaps deemed too empty and small to deserve a broom attack like the rest of the house.

"Mrs. Lovett..." He began, trying to ignore the voice which was telling him he was signing his own death sentence. "About the portrait..." She sat up so suddenly that Toby fell back slightly in alarm.

"The picture? Albert's portrait?" She said eagerly. "You know where he put it?"

Toby assumed she meant Mr. Todd and not the ghost of her dead husband come back to her haunt them all... although that would make things a whole lot more interesting... Ahem. But would be _completely_ unrealistic. Unlike the rest of this very strait-laced story...

"Well..." He began, faltering slightly under her fervent gaze. "You see..." She was beginning to bear down on him, he was feeling more and more like a small animal in a bear trap.

"Has he hidden it in his barbershop?" She demanded, looming over him with her eyes flashing dangerously in a fashion which made Toby surer than ever that he would undergo some hideous, violent death before the end of the day.

"No-not exactly..." He said lamely.

"Well?" She said, motioning impatiently. "Where did he put it?"

"He didn't put it anywhere..." Toby said numbly, flattened against the wall in a bid to distance himself from Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett looked momentarily confused and then, abruptly, a look of panic appeared. She all but clambered over the coffee table towards Toby. "He didn't... _destroy_ it... did he?" She said anxiously, clutching unintentionally hard on Toby's shirt.

Toby, feeling like he had a huge, overbearing bird of prey attached to his front, was struggling to keep his nerve. "No. He didn't destroy it."

"Where is it then?!" She burst out, giving him a slight shake. "_Where?"_

Toby swallowed deeply, his mouth was feeling very dry, he wondered if he'd even be able to get the words out. "Mr. Todd didn't take the portrait."

Mrs. Lovett stared at him. "What?" She said confusedly. "Of course he did." She sounded slightly uncertain. Her grasp had loosened slightly on Toby's front.

Toby swallowed. "I took it." The words were so tiny, so soft that for a moment he thought she hadn't heard him. She was staring blankly at him, seeming not to comprehend what he had just said.

She slowly lowered her hands from his shirt, her eyes still on him and a slight frown on her brow. For a moment there was complete silence and then, so suddenly Toby barely had time to flinch, she brought her hand sharply across his cheek.

Toby clutched his stinging cheek, almost too stunned to feel the pain. She had _slapped_ him! In all his time of living with Mrs. Lovett, she had_ never_ set so much as a finger on him. It was more shock than hurt or anger or pain which was pounding through Toby now. Mrs. Lovett was staring at him, a look of bemusement on her face.

"Sorry." She said faintly, at length. "I don't know why I did that..." She drifted back to her armchair, seeming almost in a daze. Toby watched her, still clutching his bruised cheek.

She fell roughly into her favourite chair and looked at him, a troubled frown still sitting heavily on her countenance. "It's not like it was of great value to me. I don't even _like_ that picture..." She hesitated. "...sometimes I think perhaps I didn't like my husband very much either..." She seemed slightly ashamed of admitting it; as though it was something she had swallowed for a very long time. "I don't know why I cared that it was gone. _Why_, in God's name, should I care?"

Toby was a little bewildered by this change in temperament, not to mention these questions he couldn't possibly answer. He could give it a stab but he suspected that any advise he tried to give would become some variation of 'listen to your heart and you will understand...'. He wasn't used to being asked his opinion. He was a workhouse boy for God's sake...

"Erm." He began intelligently. "I... don't... know..." He felt suddenly sheepish, like he had suddenly found himself in the dirty laundry of a woman he had always thought to be very private and resilient.

"I'll tell you why." She said, suddenly fierce. "It's because that _wanker_... excuse my French... that _bastard_... accused me of breaking into his room... and I thought this was his nasty, childish way of retaliating.

Toby assumed by 'that wanker' and 'that bastard', she meant Mr. Todd. He also felt that he should really bring the rest of his crimes to light if he ever intended on fixing his contributed damage. "About Mr. Todd's room..." He mumbled.

Mrs. Lovett looked sharply at him. "_That_ was you too?" She sounded uncharacteristically annoyed. "Jesus, Toby." She snapped. "I_ told_ you about all this stupidity. All this messing around. When will you _learn_! When I'm _dead_? Because that's what's going to happen if you don't learn to mind your own bloody business." She hadn't meant to say the last part but she was furious with Toby for his continued meddling. It was hardly _all_ his fault but he still seemed unable to keep his nose out of Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd's affair...s...

There was a frosty silence while Mrs. Lovett fumed and Toby sulked sullenly under his mistress's furious gaze. Mrs. Lovett was guilty to find that most of her anger came from the fact that Toby seemed to have worsened the chances of Mr. Todd ever asking her to marry him rather than improve them. If the boy hadn't been completely incompetent and had actually succeeded in his plight then she would have been rather more inclined to forgive his meddling. But as it was... as it was... She frowned in sudden realisation, still staring at the carpet but, all of a sudden, struck by a devious idea which could help her get her get her own form of revenge on her assailant.

"Sorry." Toby muttered after a few more moments of brooding silence. Privately, he couldn't help thinking that Mrs. Lovett was being rather ungrateful for his efforts.

Mrs. Lovett didn't reply, she was staring fixedly at a burn in the carpet as though suddenly seeing it in a different light. As though, suddenly seeing everything in a different light. She slowly looked up at Toby.

"I want you to help me with something." She said grimly. "Something important."

--

This problem was really beyond anything Mr. Todd had dealt with. Waging a one man war on London and one of its most eminent figures? That was easy. Dealing with a seriously pissed off woman (who he may have _accidentally _ravished)? Potential suicide mission. Especially when it concerned Mrs. Lovett. Especially after what he did. And especially since he had no excuse or explanation. What could he say? Blame it on his loins... _they have a mind of their own_.... _how am I supposed to control them_.... even in his head it sounded fairly pathetic.

No. He had screwed himself over big time. And he was living in mortal terror of a woman half his size, who made pies for a living. What the hell had he been thinking? His masculinity had peaked and plummeted in one night. Todd's mental capacity had always been... erm... questionable... but his instability had taken him to new lows. But this time, instead of a cold corpse and a batch of pies, he had Mrs. Lovett and all her womanly wrath to deal with.

Mr. Todd hadn't yet come to a decision about what he intended to do. Maybe there was nothing _to _do, maybe the damage was done and she would kick him out as soon as she had recovered her composure. She hadn't bothered bringing him a meal that day, which was a terrible sign. In the past... even in the most terrible of moods she had always brought him his dinner... but now... this absence spoke more plainly of her fury than any letter bomb or abuse hurling ambush could have.

On the other hand, he was struggling with the prospect of having to grovel in submission just to have her rebuff him, which was more than likely. Actually, the most likely prospect was her attacking him with whatever happened to be handy around her. Which could be a knitting needle... or a meat clever...

With a heavy sigh, he heaved himself with trouble out of his barber chair and swaggered over to the darkened window, night was falling on the scurrying Londoners below. Scurrying like little... rats in the smog and smoke. He felt his lip curl in distaste. He still felt the same contempt for a good three quarters of London and he was aware that he was being distracted from his plight again by a certain milky faced, dishevelled baker but he was disconcerted to find that he was less concerned by this than he had been in the past.

He frowned down at the people below and, instinctively flexing the fingers that would usually hold his cutthroat razor, turned from the window and almost shat himself.

"TOBY!" He bellowed, abruptly realising that it was the twelve-year-old workhouse boy standing in the semi-darkness and not the angel of death.

"Sorry." Toby stammered, while Mr. Todd glowered at him, embarrassed by his moment of alarm. "Mrs. Lovett sent me up to give you this..." He held up the laden dinner tray. "The door was open so I... let myself in."

And of course he hadn't effing knocked. He was like a little mini Mrs. Lovett, minus the dress and... boobies...

Mr. Todd went a little pink in the darkness and was glad for the cover.

He grunted at the boy in reply and jerked his head at the dresser. "Put it there." The boy obeyed and, scuttled out.

Mr. Todd watched him go with a furrowed brow. The boy's presence hadn't pleased him. He had wanted Mrs. Lovett to bring him his goddamned food, not the half witted rat boy. Nonetheless... he was starving...

He wandered over to the food and toyed a little with it with the fork. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had been poisoned... it didn't seem beneath her. If he hadn't been almost entirely sure that Mrs. Lovett still needed him for the sake of her business, he would have almost expected it. But, as it was, he was satisfied that she wouldn't attempt to kill him... yet. And certainly not in such a quiet fashion. She could scream like a banshee when she wanted to, he was convinced that if she ever considered murdering him it would be in a highly dramatic fashion. Maybe beating him to death with a shoe or suffocating him with a pie crust, or something.

Comforted by this thought, he picked up the plate and with a quick smell of it, began eating. It was Mrs. Lovett's usual, _just barely _edible cooking. Bland, thick and overcooked but not poisonous. He tentatively nibbled his way through the dish and left the plate and cutlery on the dresser for whoever might come to collect it, he hoped it was Mrs. Lovett. Maybe, if he was lucky, when she crept up to take his things, he could lock the door and force her to forgive him... He raised an eyebrow at himself in the shattered mirror in the corner; even _he_ had to admit that very likely could turn out to be unnecessarily and unwisely forceful.

With another heavy sigh, he returned to the window, staring back down into the filthy London darkness. Sometimes he had to wonder whether poison might be somewhat preferable.

--

Mrs. Lovett had never been so aware of her own power. She now knew what she held over Mr. Todd's head. In the past it had always been her, trailing after Mr. Todd, desperately clinging to any small gesture of affection Mr. Todd had tossed her way. But now, even after his brazen act, which had initially distressed her, she knew that she could use Mr. Todd's desperate sexual need for her to her advantage. She still loved him. Very much. But she couldn't let that cloud her judgement any longer. If she didn't punish Mr. Todd for what he had done to her and teach him a severe lesson about masculinity, then she feared she would never be able repair the damaged barber. Yes, she still harboured a precious hope that one day he would marry her but she was under no illusions as to how much work it would take to recover Mr. Todd's humanity. Or a little of it anyway. She wasn't trying to make Prince Charming here, she just wanted a husband. Even if it was bitter, twisted, skulking Mr. Todd who murdered people for a living.

With that grimly set in her mind, she waited quietly in her living room for Toby to return. She was pretending to read, mostly to calm her own nerves than anything. Pretending to read was strangely therapeutic. Especially when you vaguely focused on one word on the page. In this case it was 'thus'. _Thus. Thus. Thus. Thus. Thus. _Ahhh... calming...

She heard footsteps on the staircase and her eyes instinctively darted from the page to the doorway and back again. She arranged her position in the armchair into something which she hoped was idle and unconcerned and relaxed her countenance as best she could.

Toby appeared at the doorway and Mrs. Lovett immediately struggled upright. "Well?"

Toby nodded. "I gave it to him."

"And?" Mrs. Lovett pursued. "Did he eat it?"

"Well... not while I was there-

"Toby!" Mrs. Lovett said exasperatedly. "I told you to stay until he started eating."

"I... tried..." Toby said feebly.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "You have to get over this ridiculous fear of Mr. Todd, dear. He's a man not a monster. He's not going to eat you." The corners of her lips twitched slightly at the irony in her own words, but she actually did believe what she was saying. Toby was as oblivious of Todd and her crimes than ever and that gave Todd no excuse to want to harm him. "Now. It's about time you went to bed."

Toby nodded and allowed her to peck him on each cheek. He nodded briefly to her and disappeared to his bedroom. He really couldn't see how Mrs. Lovett's plan would prove to be any more effective than his but... time would tell.

Mrs. Lovett waited until Toby's footsteps had died away before she began upstairs. In one hand she held a candle in a brass holder and in the other, her skirts bunched up so she didn't trip. She trod as carefully as she could on the stairs, and then in the hallway to Mr. Todd's door. She hadn't been entirely sure of how long to wait before venturing upstairs but she couldn't make herself wait any longer, she was too jittery about what she was about to do. She had to keep reminding herself that Mr. Todd was too attracted to her to attempt to harm her. In the creaking darkness of the old house with several decomposing corpses in the bakehouse below and their murderer just beyond the door in front of her, it was enough to give her a little... twinge of uncertainty.

She halted at the door and, holding her breath, she stooped and pressed her ear to the keyhole. She couldn't hear anything from within. Not even Todd's usual rhythmic pacing on the floorboards. She put her eye to the keyhole, but couldn't see anything in the darkness. There was no way of knowing without a doubt if the coast was clear but she would have to take her chances. Drawing comfort from the silence, she carefully turned the knob and, barely daring to breathe, pushed the door. With a hair-raising screech it fell open. Her heart was beating painfully hard in her chest, she had been sure that would have spelt her doom but there was no sound omitting from the barbershop. She eventually recovered her nerve and edged forward, peering around the corner of the door. The light from the candle fell onto the dusty floorboards. Everything was silent and still. The barber chair was standing eerily in the gloom. The moon, hidden behind a layer of thick clouds, provided only a slither of light from the window.

Mrs. Lovett crept through the doorway and cast an eye over the entire barbershop, it fell suddenly on a figure slumped on the floor. With a thrill, she hurried to it, holding the candle before her. It was Todd. His limp figure was strangely endearing as he lay motionless on his side, breathing steadily. Mrs. Lovett gently knelt beside him, transfixed by his lifeless form. She set the candle beside her and with her free hand tenderly tucked a stray hair from his forehead behind his ear, her heart aching dully under the weight of her own affection for him. She eventually managed to drag her hand from his face, reminding herself fiercely of her mission. She scrambled her way down to his faded, worn boots and carefully, painstakingly untied the bulky knots. It took a good ten minutes to completely untangle them, by which time much of her surge of affection for him had evaporated in her irritability at his typically male approach to the simplest of tasks, such as tying his shoelaces. It seemed rather than simply admit he couldn't tie them properly, he preferred just to wind them into a big, tangled ball.

She carefully pulled each lace upward and then tied all four laces together into a neat, tight bow and cocked her head to one side, admiring her handy work. With a sigh she edged her way back up to the candle, flickering in the darkness and casting delicate little shadows over Todd's gaunt features. She caught herself gazing at him, transfixed by the eerie beauty of the candlelight on his shadowy form. She glanced over her shoulder, consumed by a sudden desire to touch him.

Feeling her pulse quicken somewhat, she carefully pulled back his jacket to reveal his white, button up shirt, eerily bright without its usual decoration of blood. She had to pause to catch her breath. Laying her hands on him, feeling his warmth radiating under her hands almost completely drained her of her strength. Glancing upwards, she forced herself to rearrange his clothes back into their original position. He suddenly gave a small groan and moved slightly under her hands. She froze, eyes glued to his face. But he didn't awaken.

Mrs. Lovett took the candle and left the barber slumped on the floor, heading back for the door. With a last glance at the barber's still from, she slunk from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

--

Mr. Todd awoke the next morning in considerable pain. He blinked bemusedly, struggling upright and giving a strained groan as pain shuddered up his back and neck. He stared around him. He was on the floor. Why, in God's name, was he on the floor...

And why... couldn't he remember anything between now and... yesterday afternoon... He rubbed his throbbing head, frowning fiercely against the sunlight filtering through the grimy window. His back and hip were aching from his being asleep on his side all night on the splintering wooden planks. He could only come to one conclusion... he must have... passed out... How else could he have no recollection of the night before? And besides, Mr. Todd wasn't in the habit of sleeping on the floor, or sleeping at all for that matter.

He gave his head a shake, trying to rid himself of the hazy mist that seemed to be swirling over his eyes. With a heavy groan he attempted to struggle his way to his feet and immediately collapsed sideways, jarring his hip and jaw painfully as he did. He struggled onto his back and lifted his legs up in the air before his eyes. His boots were tied together... He frowned up at them blankly.

He managed, after a good few minutes of rolling about like a beetle on its back, to get onto his knees to untie his laces. He tugged them loose and got to his feet. Maybe this was Toby's idea of a joke... sneaking in here while Todd was inert and tying his laces together. He scowled down at his boots. Or, maybe he had somehow... tangled them up... He had to admit his tying skills weren't... perfect...

Shaking his head at his own capacity for unexplainable weirdness, he shrugged it off as a bizarre... highly confusing mishap and gave his jacket a dust off. He just needed to get himself together. The last couple of days had been stressful and tiring, he was obviously strung out. And this was his body's way of telling him he was overexerting himself. Mentally, physically, emotionally. The sooner he fixed his problems with Mrs. Lovett, the sooner he'd recover from these weird episodes. Or the ones which found him on his back at nine in the morning with his boots tied together, at least.

Suddenly his door swung open with a tinkle and a sharp thud as it hit the wall. He spun around with a jerk, caught completely off guard.

"Sorry." Said the well-dressed, portly man in the doorway. "You_ are_ open aren't you? The woman downstairs... with the pies... told me you were-

Todd, who had been staring at the man with a questioning frown, smoothly rearranged his countenance. "Yes, yes. Sorry. Yes. I'm open. Sit, won't you."

The man nodded pompously and, removing his coat and hat, took a seat in the infamous barber chair and bore his throat. Todd stared at him. They passed their lives so easily into his hands. He turned to fetch his razors from the dresser, still lost in thought. He absentmindedly shoved the empty bowl and cutlery to one side of the dresser and took out his razors, casting a fond glance over their stainless silver glint, winking up at him while he glowered back at them. He took one from its case and held it for a moment, hearing the man's breathing behind him strangely loudly.

He turned back to him and took his usual position in front of the barber chair, casting an eye over the man's vulnerable jugular. He didn't feel like being creative today. One good, strong slice across the throat would be enough to give the man a nicely violent death and if that didn't polish him off, the drop below certainly would. With a grim set to his jaw he glanced quickly up at the man's face and then, without another thought brought the razor cleanly across the man's throat. There was the usual wet squelch of metal passing through flesh and blood which had become so familiar to him. The blood sprayed up, almost onto his clothing but stopping short at his wrists. The man hadn't uttered a word. Todd looked away and hit the peddle. The man slid slowly off the chair and Todd listened with satisfaction to the sickening cracks of his bones against the bricks below.

The barber chair was brought back up into its original position and Todd wiped the blood off his razor with the handkerchief at his hip. It had felt somehow... different... that time. Still somewhat rousing but... he had been distracted. Distracted by Mrs. Lovett. She was invading his life, his mind and now his profession. But, strangely, it didn't infuriate him as it had done in the past. He was still a highly messed up individual but that strange enragement that Mrs. Lovett used to excite was slipping away. He still found her ridiculous, annoying, provocative and unabashedly lustful but the violent desire to control her and everything she did wasn't nearly as prominent. But perhaps it was too late now. His sudden surge of maturity and poise had come far too late.

--

Yes, her prank had been childish, but it was designed to make the barber question his own sanity. She wanted him to feel fear and uncertainty, or at least a good dose of 'what the hell'.

Mrs. Lovett would have to put her urges to kill Mr. Todd with her bare hands to one side. This way she could punish him progressively over time. Or at least until he apologised to her face, honestly and genuinely. God knew when _that_ would be. He had proven himself to have no self control, no respect for her and no idea what real masculinity entailed.

Maybe she should have sat him down in the past and told him point blank what _she _thought was masculine. Maybe that would have stopped this before it had become completely out of control. But she had liked all his attentions. She had liked it. And she had let it get out of control.

Not that she took any responsibility for the events two nights past. Mr. Todd would have to get himself out of that one. She didn't know how he'd do it but she was interested to see what he'd do when he eventually recovered his nerve and could face her again. Perhaps his absence was somewhat comforting; it could suggest he at least felt _some_ shame for what he had done. That was... promising...? She didn't know if she dared to think anything was promising anymore, it all seemed to turn to dust in her hands.

But, she could still hope, right? She could still dream. She had held onto this dream for fifteen years, it had never felt so close, so reachable. She just had to be patient and optimistic.

She gave a small, contented sigh and sunk heavily into her bed covers, the weight finally being lifted off her aching feet. She bent down and removed her shoes and stockings, glancing up at her dresser where Albert's picture had been restored to. Horrible, ugly man. She didn't know why she kept it there. Maybe one day she'd throw it out, when she felt she didn't need its safe, familiar presence anymore.

She kicked away her shoes and fell onto the bed still fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling. Mr. Todd would be up there now, pacing around and around and around, glowering his evil barber glare of doom and stroking his... razor... She rolled her eyes at her own dizzy infatuation. She was more in love with Mr. Todd than ever, he could have killed Toby and put him in a pie and fed it to her and she'd still marry him, lest he ever ask her. She felt a slight twinge of guilt. She was fond of Toby, she'd never purposely go out of her way to get him pie...d... but he did come second to Mr. Todd, it was a fact. But, as long as Toby didn't piss off the man upstairs he wouldn't have to worry about being sold for a few shilling with a tankard of ale.

With a sleepy yawn, she closed her eyes, grinning slightly at the thought of Mr. Todd's reaction when he had awoken to find himself on the floor with his boots tied together. Priceless.

She heard a gentle tapping at her door and shot upright, her immediate thought that it might be Mr. Todd come to declare his love for her (well, a woman can fantasise, can't she?). She instead, naturally, found Toby looking slightly breathless.

"I did it." He said as soon as she opened the door.

"Well done, dear." She replied, stepping aside to let him in. "And you watched him eat it?"

"Yes." Toby replied, listened at the door.

"And you're _sure_ he ate it?" Mrs. Lovett pressed him. "Positive?"

"Positive." Toby said firmly.

"Alright, good." Mrs. Lovett said, turning to go to her dresser for her 'supplies' for that night's activities.

"I don't understand why this will work." Toby remarked while she rummaged through her drawers, which is rather ironic really that it happened to be her drawers' drawer.

"Of course you don't. You're male. You don't understand or believe anything unless it hits you over the head with a cold fish." She replied mildly. "But trust me, dear. This will work much more effectively than drunken escapades... although they're half the fun...." She muttered to herself.

Toby shrugged. "Whatever you say, mum." He left her, closing the door behind him. Mrs. Lovett was too busy with her searching to notice.

Tonight's attempt was going to be much trickier and require all her sneaky skills. And she'd have to keep her desire to stick her tongue down his throat under wraps. That _may_ be a slight giveaway. And she should keep her hands away from his... crevices... she couldn't trust her hands... they had a mind of their own... they had an inbuilt homing device, designed to search out Mr. Todd's... well, Mr. Todd, in the wider sense. She couldn't risk ruining her plots by having him wake up half way through to find Mrs. Lovett's hand down his pants.

She pulled out her sowing basket, lovingly shoved in her bottom drawer under a pile of miscellaneous junk. She picked out the various things she needed and put it back where she had found it. Time for round two.

--

Mr. Todd finished his soup and pushed away the tray to one side on the dresser. All in all, it had been a successful day. A good, steady supply of customers, therefore a good, steady supply of meat and more satisfied customers for Mrs. Lovett. But, speaking of the pie wench, why hadn't she appeared yet? Surely, she would have gotten over it by _now_. I mean, come on... _Come on!_ He kicked the dresser and immediately tried to pacify himself. He was supposed to have passed those blind angry spells now.

He leant frustrated on the dresser, breathing heavily and feeling suddenly very hot under the collar. He thought he had these mood swings under control but apparently not. He was still like a premenstrual teenage girl, except permanently and minus the bloating, breakouts and constant need for chocolate... although chocolate did sound quite good right now...

"Oh, shut up Todd." He growled. Distracted by chocolate of all times... He staggered to his feet, feeling strangely drowsy all of a sudden and turned restlessly to the window, stumbling clumsily towards it. He was about half way there when suddenly, without warning, he crumpled onto the floor, fast asleep. Mrs. Lovett and Toby had struck again.

Mrs. Lovett crept up the hallway as she had done the evening before. She had more confidence now. She knew she was capable of doing it now so she wasn't so haunted by the possibilities of failure. She approached the door and did the usual check for any telling sounds through the keyhole. Hearing that all was deathly silent, she pushed open the door and padded in, unsurprised this time to find Todd slumped on the floor, sleeping peacefully. Like an adorable man whore. She cringed. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about that... but somehow it popped up so readily in every situation.

Attempting to force man whores, no matter how adorable they may be, from her mind, she crossed to the fallen man- _barber_ and knelt by his side, taking her materials and using her candle to light her work. She couldn't afford to get _too _confident, one slip and she could make an irreversible mistake... Well, 'irreversible mistake' might be a little dramatic. 'Poke Mr. Todd with her sowing needle' was somewhat more accurate.

She gently threaded the needle and laid out her materials beside her in the candlelight. She cast an eye over Mr. Todd's person, he was on his front with his head to one side, so it would be a little difficult to get to his front without a risky attempt at shoving him onto his back, but she would find a way around it. In the worst case scenario she could stick her hand through his legs and attempt to do it that way. Yes, it was inadvisable, but if her pranks had to come at the price of shoving her hand in Mr. Todd's crotch- then so be it.

Battling a grin in the darkness she gave herself a small shake, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.

--

It was the second day in a row Mr. Todd had woken in some amount of pain, sprawled out like a drunkard on his barbershop floor with no recollection of the evening before.

He blinked blearily across the floor, everything a little blurry in front of his eyes as he lay flat on the ground, half on his back and half on his side. He didn't feel like moving, his back and hip were both extremely stiff and his head was throbbing dully, perhaps from the impact when it hit the wooden boards for the second time in two days. He still felt too foggy and disorientated to question how he had become to be in a similar position to the night before, so he just lay, staring at the wall and feeling rather like a ragdoll which had been dropped a few metres... on its head.

After a few moments of staring at the wall and thinking about how strange this would look to anyone who happened find him, he decided it was time to get off the floor. With a tight groan he began to claw his way upright, feeling every ache and jolt like someone was kicking him in the stomach. He managed to struggle to his feet and, hunched over and grunting in pain, he stumbled to his dresser to examine the damage. He found he could barely stand up straight enough to look in the mirror, but strained his back as far as it would go without feeling he was about to snap a rib.

"Bloody _hell_." He hissed, rubbing his screaming joints, while he stared at his crotch in the mirror (the highest point he could set his eyes on in his stooped position). "What is this..."

He slowly began to straighten up fully, with more than one sudden surge of agony through his back as he did so. It took a good ten or fifteen minutes but eventually, after much pain and irritated cursing, he managed to stand more or less straight, if not rather like the Tin Man with his limbs all rather stiffly placed.

He was just working up to getting his jaw in line with his neck rather than his chest when he saw a flash of pink in the mirror and froze. He raised his eyes to his waist in the mirror and felt a cold rush of unpleasant realisation. There were... _pink things_ on his shirt... PINK THINGS. His head shot up straight and he gave a jerk of horror. Oh. Hell. _No._

He shot a hand up to his hair, now newly adorned with a large amount of silk, pink bows and tugged at them. They were firmly tied into his hair. 'Firmly', in the sense that when he pulled them with enough force to, rather painfully, remove large chunks of his hair he couldn't come close to removing them. They stayed stubbornly in place, looking quite grotesque against the paleness of his skin and darkness of his hair. He looked like some sort of sick, hideous clown.

"_FUCK_." He burst out, staring from the bows in his hair to the pink material hearts and flowers which had been carefully sewn into his shirt in an artful pattern. His coat also had not be spared, with bows being tied across both cuffs, looped through the button holes so that he wouldn't be able remove them without a serious struggle.

He shook his head slowly in disbelief at himself. This couldn't be happening to him... had he finally lost his nut... or was this some sort of bizarre divine retribution for his past sins...? Or was this _Toby_... If it wasn't entirely unlike Toby in every way to play pranks, especially clever, arty pranks at that, he would have suspected him capable of it.

He cringed at himself. Whatever had happened. Insane or not. He would have to change out of his ruined clothes before someone-

"Oh..."

Too late.

He spun abruptly from the dresser. The man was staring at him, a look of badly disguised horror on his face, as if he'd just encountered a madman. It was far from comforting.

"I-I... see I've interrupted you..." The man stammered, his eyes darting from Todd's patches to his bows. He obviously thought he was a loony, Todd thought flatly to himself. "I'll come back later..."

Mr. Todd all but launched himself at the man who tripped over backwards in his haste distance himself from Todd..

"WAIT." Todd said hoarsely, stumbling towards the man.

The man was slumped against the door, feeling blindly for the knob while keeping his terrified eyes on Todd who was lumbering towards him like some pink... madman.

"I'm not- Todd fell over. -_crazy_." He clambered back to his feet. "I just had a little... _run in_... with... the bows..." 'A run in with 'the bows'. Fucking hell, he must have sounded insane. "I mean... not a... 'run in'... I mean more like...." He tripped again and had to claw his way up his barber chair to his feet. "I mean... I don't even know how they got there... they just _appeared_." _APPEARED?!_ THE BOWS _APPEARED_?! WAY TO REASSURE HIM, IDIOT. "I mean..." Todd said desperately. "I mean... they... are... just..." He floundered wildly for something reassuring to finish that thought on. "Pink..." He finished lamely.

The man was looking at Todd with a look of terror which suggested he thought Todd was about to announce that the bows controlled his every movement and thought and had decided they wanted Todd to kill him. He found the doorknob just as Todd was bearing down on him. He threw himself out of the door and Todd heard him thunder down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him.

Mr. Todd clutched the wall to support himself, feeling a mix of dismay at losing a customer and panic at the prospect that maybe he was really going crazy.

"Alright..." He gasped. "It's ok... you're... not... going... _mad_... Just... take a... deep breath... and try and... not freak out..." He stared blankly at the door for a few moments. "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!" He howled, collapsing onto his knees.

--

Below, Mrs. Lovett smirked to herself. Everything was going perfectly to plan. Todd, on his emotional rollercoaster of doom, had fallen so easily into her trap. And she was enjoying her revenge too much to let it stop _just_ _yet._

She poured herself out of her armchair, feeling rather lazy and at peace now that she was getting even with Mr. Tool... I mean Todd... She absentmindedly paused at the mirror above the fireplace and gave her frazzled curls a tease, without really seeing. She was still too wrapped up with her own feeling of exhilaration at her vengeance. She now knew what it was like to 'slit someone's throat' of such. Not literally but figuratively.

But, she still had a day job, she reminded herself, turning finally from the mirror and giving herself a little shake. She couldn't get distracted from the bigger picture. Mr. Todd finally getting his hands on the judge was the real objective here and she had to pretend she actually gave a damn about it until Sweeney had satisfied himself with slitting the judge's throat in a creative and highly violent fashion and then watching him being incinerated, hacked up and baked into a pie. He'd probably want to eat it himself.

She headed for the bakehouse, she hadn't been down there since the former evening and it was important she got the meat when it was fresh. If it was sitting there, even for a few hours, it could get set on by flies. She opened the doors and began down into the darkness, temporarily blinded after being in the well-lit living room.

She found the bakehouse as she had left it. Big, dark, empty and somehow menacing. Smelling heavily of festering meat and the odours from the sewers below. Disgusting place. One day she'd have to train Toby how to prepare the meat so she could have a break from the stink and darkness for a change.

She edged over to the corner where the corpses usually sat in a heap under Mr. Todd's chute, depending on how murderous he was feeling on that particular day. To her immense surprise, she found it completely empty. No half dead Londoners gurgling on their only blood, no battered well-to-do's laying like splattered birds on a windowsill. All she could see were dull blood stains on the bricks that would probably never wash out.

She frowned. That was very odd. It was ten o'clock, the barbershop would have been open on average for two or three hours by now and that usually meant at least two or three corpses but no, nothing. She shrugged. Maybe her prank had hit the barber so hard, he hadn't been able to continue his usual timetable of murder and butchery.

She gave a small snort as she pictured Mr. Todd in his bows and left the gloomy confines of the bakehouse for the warm light above. She really had hit Todd where it hurt and she had to say, he really did deserve it.

--

Mr. Todd sat numbly in his barber chair, looking straight ahead with a small frown on his brow and clutching seven or eight pink heart decorated shirts in his left hand.

"Alright." He breathed. "Alright." He took a shuddery breath. "I... get it..." He got to his feet, flinging the ruined shirts to the floor and heading for the door, throwing it open and marching down the hallway towards the stairs.

He found Mrs. Lovett in the living room, in her usual chair, staring seemingly into space. He walked into the living room, too certain of what he was supposed to do to feel apprehensive about how she would react.

Mrs. Lovett looked up sharply when he entered and at first she looked stunned and slightly disbelieving, but he didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

There was a stiff silence. Mr. Todd stood squarely in the centre of the room, awkwardly aware of his bows and Mrs. Lovett sat in her chair, the corners of her lips twitched slightly as she took in his entire person.

He was a bit put out that her first reaction after not seeing him for two days after his terrifying display of violence and dominance, was to laugh at him.

"Get it off your chest." He said flatly, while she wrestled with a grin.

She burst into laughter, crouching over in her seat and howling through tears of glee. Mr. Todd looked on unsmilingly from the middle of the room, while Mrs. Lovett was overcome with hysterics. After two minutes, he thought it was time to step in.

"Alright." He said irritably. "Get yourself together."

Mrs. Lovett fell back in her chair and wiped her eyes, finally getting hold of herself. She was still giggling a bit though, even as Mr. Todd was glowering at her, feeling his impressive display had been somewhat dented by her immature reaction to a few... dozen... pink bows... and flowers... and hearts...

"You... wanted... to... say... something..." She gasped.

Mr. Todd cleared his throat. "Yes. I thought it was about... time... I... well..." He trailed off, trying to decide what the best way to word this was.

Mrs. Lovett, who had completely recovered from her outbreak, was sitting silently in her chair. She looked very grim but Mr. Todd was hoping for an impressive reaction to his declaration. Something involving sex would not be unwelcome.

"Look..." He began, beginning to pace as he spoke in his agitation. "I... Look..." He cleared his throat again. "I know... I've given you..." Pause. "...no reason to..." Pause. "Trust me..." Pause, glance at Mrs. Lovett. "But... well..." Pause, uncomfortable fidget. "I guess... I'm trying to..." Pause, fidget, glance at Mrs. Lovett. "I'm... sor...ry... about..." Vague gesturing motion. "... that."

He returned to his place in the centre of the room and, stared at the carpet, not quite daring to look at Mrs. Lovett's face. There was a long, painful silence. He could hear the Londoners passing by outside, chattering and shuffling along.

"Are you telling me..." Mr. Todd's eyes shot to Mrs. Lovett. "That... _that_... is the best you can do?" His heart sank. This did not sound like it was going to lead onto sex, somehow.

He didn't even bother trying to defend himself, if he stayed nice and quiet, maybe she'd let him off after she'd satisfied her scream factor.

"After all you _put_ me through?" She said, her voice rising dangerously. "That weak, blathering apology is _all_ I get?"

"Well, what do you want?" He snapped, his 'nice and quiet' plan going out the window. "Flowers, a fucking... _song_? What do you want?"

Mrs. Lovett scrambled to her feet. "I want you to stop acting like such a-a... _wanker_!" She spluttered, not really thinking through what she going to say before she said it.

Mr. Todd didn't reply. He'd already pissed her off and ruined all chance of her letting him off with an apology. Maybe it was best if he took his own advice and just shut up...

Mrs. Lovett put a hand to her head and closed her eyes momentarily. For a few moments neither of them spoke. And then, finally, Mrs. Lovett looked up at him, unnervingly calm. "Mr. Todd. Seeing as screaming never seems to work with you." _You should know_, he couldn't help thinking to himself. "I _don't_ think you're manly." She said the words so plainly and matter-of-factly that the sting of them didn't hit Mr. Todd until a few seconds after she'd said them. He frowned at her, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly. "I may have once. But that was before you turned into this... crazy masculinity-obsessed nutter." She took a deep breath. "Anyway... I have ...people to serve..."

She swept past him and out of the room, as though she didn't trust herself not to take her shoe off and start batting him over the head with it if she stayed with him any longer.

Sweeney didn't move for a few moments. Even after everything she had said he couldn't stop the words 'it was _her_...' from crossing his mind.

--

Of course _now_ it all made sense. The black outs, the weird incidents. The shoelaces and then the bows. She had decided to punish him herself. How cruel and... quite clever. Really.

He was in his barbershop, dressed in his leather coat even though he was inside; it was the only thing she hadn't ruined with her stupid pink. He glowered at the pile of bows sitting on the dresser along with a liberal amount of black hair which had accompanied them when he'd ripped them out in frustrated irritation an hour or so ago after getting a _little_ impatient with picking them out one by one.

He ran a finger across his razor and thoughtfully brought it up to his eyelevel, catching sight of his own sunken eyes in the silverly reflection. She didn't think he was manly... After all that stupid fuss... she had seen right through his smoke and mirrors. He didn't really know what he was going to do about it. Everything he had done in the past seemed sort of... lame_,_ now that he knew none of it had convinced the person he'd been so unexplainably desperate to impress.

He thinned his lips and cast a quick look down below to check that no one was coming before he turned to put away his razors for another day. He already had a vague idea of what he intended to do, he now had no doubt that the past two nights she had laced his food with something to put him to sleep. He just had to make it seem he'd eaten it and then he could catch her out in her next weirdo deed.

He glanced at the window. It was getting dark. Soon she'd send the boy up with his dinner and he could start, hopefully, patching up this business with Mrs. Lovett. He gave a tired sigh. _Women_. They were so much more exhausting than murder...

The door suddenly opened and he jumped, turning abruptly to the door. It was Toby. He hadn't bothered to knock and he was holding a dish resembling something like the inside of a vacuum cleaner, what was new.

"Tell me, Toby." Todd snarled while the boy was crossing to his dresser. "Were you raised in a barn?"

The boy blinked at him. "No. I was raised in a workhouse." He said blankly, the metaphor obviously lost on him.

"No I mean... oh just go..." Mr. Todd grumbled, glowering at the boy's confused expression. You'd be better off teaching a monkey to shave...

The boy disappeared and Todd watched him go with distaste before turning to his 'dinner', if you could call a plateful of slimy mystery grey stuff 'dinner'. He didn't even bother touching it; he took the whole plate and, pushing back the barber chair, emptied it all into the bakehouse. Just in case she checked to see if the plate was empty.

He returned the empty plate to the dresser and placed his cutlery on top of it. Then, with a glance at the door, he arranged himself on the floor in what he hoped was a natural, limp position. As he was perfecting his 'unconscious' position, he felt a faint pang of annoyance at Mrs. Lovett's immaturity. He could have broken his nose... or his neck on these floorboards and she had risked that for her own petty attempt at revenge. God, some people were so juvenile...

He had time to ponder on this as he lay on the floor, listening to the sounds radiating up through the gaps in the floorboards. It seemed to take an age for Mrs. Lovett to appear but finally, after a good few minutes, he heard her footsteps echoing up from below and smirked slightly. She was going to get her comeuppance now.

Darkness had completely fallen and even with his eyes open he couldn't see anything but a few slithers of moonlight trailing across the floor. He closed them tightly now and listened with a hitched breath for Mrs. Lovett to arrive. He heard the floorboards creak outside as light footsteps approached the door; his heart was beating unusually quickly, he felt strangely exhilarated and at the same time, the same fierce attraction to Mrs. Lovett was bubbling under the surface. It seemed to grow more intense when mixed with anger or apprehension, any strong emotion. Lucy, the judge, revenge were put completely from his mind. In fact for the first time in more than fifteen years they didn't feature in his thought process at all. And for once he wasn't punishing himself- or Mrs. Lovett for it. It was a strange, unintentional remedial method of dealing with his resentment.

The door suddenly opened, with a shriek of its rusted hinges. Mr. Todd jerked slightly in surprise and quickly stiffened himself, hoping that the darkness hid his movements well enough.

Mrs. Lovett's breath sounded strangely heavy to Mr. Todd as he lay, the silence and the darkness seemed to intensify her every movement. She approached his fallen form, shuffling blindly through the gloom. He was just wondering how she was going to see him through the darkness when she suddenly walked right into him and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from swearing. _Stupid, clumsy woman..._

He heard her kneel beside him, she was fiddling with something, Todd wondered vaguely what she was intending on doing. Coating him in rose buds... tattooing a teddy bear onto his butt... He suddenly gave a convulsive jerk and he felt Mrs. Lovett freeze next to him. He bit his lip, forcing himself to lay still. After a few agonizing moments she continued, still shuffling with something, then suddenly, in a flash of moonlight, he saw what she was holding. Scissors. _Scissors. _What the hell was she intending to do with a bloody great big pair of scissors?! He forced himself to stay still. He couldn't move yet, unless he wanted to find himself impaled on Mrs. Lovett's scissors.

He could feel himself beginning to freak out a little, his breathing was becoming a little too quick and he could almost feel his heart beating against his flesh. He had to stay calm, she probably wasn't doing anything drastic... nothing involving his bottom half.... please... God...

He gritted his teeth together, forcing himself to wait until the ideal moment.

Clutching the scissors, she suddenly flung her leg over him and positioned herself on his stomach. Mr. Todd was aware that his eyes were widened but he couldn't seem to move. He felt her begin to unbutton his coat and, with a full body shudder, he suddenly shot upright, forgetting momentarily about the possibility of being impaled on Mrs. Lovett's scissors. He heard her inhale sharply.

"Jesus Christ." He barked, grabbing for her wrists. "Are you _insane_?"

Mrs. Lovett was struggling; she was still sitting squarely on his hips, straddling him with her legs on either side. "Get off me." She hissed but he wouldn't let go of her wrists.

He managed to get the scissors from her hand and threw them across the room. She stared at him sullenly through the darkness. "You would have deserved it."

Mr. Todd frowned at her, still clutching her wrists tightly in his hands. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." She retorted. "A few decorative patterns in your shirt are hardly going to change your life forever."

Mr. Todd opened and closed his mouth a few times. He was feeling increasingly stupid. What kind of crazy conclusion had he come to...? That she ended to remove one of his... appendages... when in reality she had probably been thinking more along the lines of puppy shaped holes in his barber shirt, or something. He was hoping she wouldn't guess what he had feared.

"Look." He said hoarsely, deciding to change the subject. "Revenge isn't going to solve anything." He regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. That_ he_ should be giving advise to _anyone_ about revenge was... stupid... to say the least.

"I'm sorry." She said flatly. "But wasn't it you that informed me that the world was full of people made of shit a few weeks ago..."

Damn. He knew that would come back to haunt him. Stupid awesome singing skills. They were such a curse.

Silence fell on the two for a few moments, each was reflecting on the weirdness of the last few weeks. All starting with Mr. Todd's bizarre masculinity plight. It took a few moments for them both to realise they were still seated, rather... cosily on top of each other. Then there was a rather embarrassed shuffle as Mrs. Lovett struggled off of him and rearranged her skirts, pointedly away from him. So her prank had failed but she cared less than she thought she would have. She busied herself with tidying herself up away from Mr. Todd's gaze. He was still sitting on the floor with his legs apart watching her and trying not to mentally undress her where she stood. It all came down to sexual politics, this masculinity thing. 'Sex' being the key word and he'd had a lot of that lately.

Mr. Todd watched her smooth her skirts but didn't move. He still wanted her despite all of the mess which had accumulated over the last few weeks. He still was very attracted and attached to her and he was aware somewhat of her affections for him, if in reality, not nearly the full extent of them. The full extent of her love for him was somehow lost on him. He had never really considered it; he didn't really understand it and, she didn't believe he would ever be able to reciprocate it to anyone but his wife. Which was saddening but she, as painful as it would be, would eventually have to accept that he would never love her as she did him. She didn't actually think it physically possible for him to feel for her what she did for him... She suddenly paused. A thought had abruptly come upon her. Something which she hadn't really thought about before.

She turned slowly to him. He couldn't see her face completely clearly in the darkness but he thought she looked strange nonetheless.

"Eh. Mrs. Lovett..." He began, a little unnerved by her change in behaviour.

She didn't reply, but she walked, calmly towards him and took her former position on his hips, straddling him and drawing an unintentional groan from him which he hadn't been quick enough to mask. She began a very familiar attack on his neck which he didn't have the willpower or inclination to prevent and then he felt her hands move to his belt buckle and he knew she knew exactly what power she had over him and was, for the first time in her life, actually using it rather than pandering to his needs in a bid to secure his affections.

She had come to a silent resolution. If she couldn't have him, which she was convinced she couldn't, she could at least have one night where she took a little of what she wanted from him and then, if her assumptions were correct, and he saw her more as a sex toy than as a wife, she'd leave all this dallying behind and return to her quiet fantasies. It was about time one of them grew up and started acting like a woman... man... whatever.

She undid his belt and pulled it off slowly, ensuring he felt every movement acutely. She gently put her hands on his chest, and kissed him with all the tenderness she had ever wanted to. He didn't react. She hadn't expected him to, she could almost feel his bemused gaze on her cheek as she deepened the one-sided kiss and moved her hands downwards to his trousers. He wasn't doing anything but sitting under her warm weight and witnessing all her affectionate fantasies spill over him. He was enjoying it, she could feel that he didn't share her intense tenderness, he couldn't return it to her because she didn't even know if he possessed the ability anymore to treasure someone as feverishly she did him. But he didn't rebuff her or tell her to stop. And that meant more to her than him forcing himself between her legs like she was the whore and he was her client.

She took both of his hands in hers and gently pushed up her skirts with his hands, he threw his head back slightly, the pressure between his legs was becoming intense. She realised it and tightened her grip on his hands as she rocked forward slightly, so her lips were bare inches from his ear.

"I win."

--

The following morning, Mrs. Lovett had come down from Mr. Todd's barbershop after leaving him fast asleep in his barber chair, dressed only in his shirt. It was still dark; it couldn't have been later than six o' clock. It was freezing, and she was still only dressed in her underclothes with her dress bunched up in her arms from the evening before. She had spent the night with Mr. Todd but not as a whore but as an actual lover and though she had no illusions about how he viewed her, she knew he didn't love her and he never would, she felt she had put everything right and faced her biggest demon. Her demon.

She was happy with things returning to how they had been before these last couple of crazy months. When they had just been accomplices. Yes, it had been a lonely existence but at least it didn't fool her into thinking she had a chance with a man as damaged as Mr. Todd. If he pretended that nothing had happened the next time she saw him and had returned to his usual bitter, sullen self then she would know that their relationship had come to its close, but if... well she didn't dare to get her hopes up... but... well, she'd see what sort of mood he was in when he awoke.

In the darkness she was suddenly struck by a strange impulse which compelled her to turn down the hallway and then slip back into her bedroom. She stumbled through the darkness and finally found and lit a candle so she could see what she was doing. Then, clutching the dress around her like a shawl, she went to her dresser and ran her eyes over the objects scattering the top of it. She gently picked up the portrait of Albert, her unloved ex-husband and stared at it. She didn't need it anymore. She didn't need _him_ anymore. Silently she placed it back on the dresser and after a moment of silent reflection on it and its meaning, she suddenly found herself nudging it off the dresser with her hand. She watched with a thrill as it tumbled off the edge. She felt slightly breathless as it disappeared through the darkness and landed with a satisfying crunch on the floorboards. The glass undoubtedly broken. She stood for a few moments in silence, savouring the destruction of her dead husband's portrait.

Then, with a slight sigh, she turned back to the doorway, not bothering to try and clean up the glass in the darkness. It had been a simple and impulsive act that might find her, hours later, desperately trying to glue the glass back together with fish oil or it may have finally freed her of Albert and her feeling of duty to someone she had never liked, less loved. She didn't know but she didn't feel it mattered overly at this very moment.

She felt too exhilarated to sleep so she crept back to the living room and sunk into her usual armchair and arranged her dress over her legs as a sort of blanket. The embers in the fire were still hot in the grate, casting a warm glow over the living room. She'd have to get up soon and get to work. If she went to sleep she'd have to hope she woke before nine.

She sunk back in her chair and made herself comfortable. She was just feeling her eyes begin to grow heavy when-

"Mrs. Lovett?"

She jerked upright, staring at the doorway. It was Toby. She felt momentarily ashamed at herself for her initial thought that it might be Mr. Todd.

"Oh, love. Why are you up so early?" She whispered. He didn't reply but crept over to her and knelt by her knee, peering up seriously at her face.

"Did it work?" He asked.

Mrs. Lovett hesitated. "Not... completely."

Toby's face fell. "So..."

"Well, it worked well enough." She added quickly. "In its own way..."

Toby nodded but stayed silent. Mrs. Lovett gently patted his hair. "Now. Please. No more playing cupid? If it's meant to be... it's meant to be..." She felt she was somewhat dooming herself if she kept that sentiment but... well, life wasn't meant to be easy. Especially not for her it seemed.

Toby nodded again, looking down. "Ok." He said mildly.

There was a brief silence

Mrs. Lovett closed her eyes gently, feeling suddenly very tired. Toby glanced up at her and suddenly stopped short, frowning slightly.

"Mrs. Lovett..."

"Mmm?"

"Where are your clothes..."

"Erm..."

--

Mrs. Lovett finished her chores in record time that day and sold a rather impressive amount of pies. There had been no shortage of meat, Mr. Todd had seemed to be in an enthusiastic mood, there had been a body falling through the floor almost every fifteen minutes. At five, she had shut up shop and left the cleaning to Toby so she could finish off her small chores.

She hadn't seen Mr. Todd all day but she felt things had more or less fallen back into their usual pattern. Which after initial disappointment, she had decided perhaps was for the best. No more potatoes, no more DIY hair cuts or ridiculous aphrodisiac fuelled confrontations in closets and against window sills... It had been fun in a... twisted, 'I never want to go through that again' sort of way...

She sunk down onto the floor in the living room and surrounded herself with her least favourite work in the world: sewing. She had shirts of Mr. Todd's which, being in the sewing pile, had escaped her pink wrath to be patched up of various snags and holes, stockings to be darned and various dresses to be hastily stitched up, many of them looking as if one good pull would make the whole thing collapse.

She calmly picked out a needle from her sewing basket and began on Mr. Todd's first shirt. There were only three shirts of his which she hadn't attacked with her pink hearts and flowers and they had been on her sewing pile for months. The rest had been pinkified and she knew she'd have to restore them sooner or later... or at least buy him a good few more to replace them. It depended on whether she could keep her patience long enough to get through even one session of tedious unpicking. She'd probably find herself in that 'FUCK, I HATE FUCKING SEWING' mindset in less than five minutes, knowing her track record.

Oh well. It was worth it to see him covered in tiny hearts and flowers. She grinned dreamily into space as the image of Mr. Todd in his pink ensemble. If that was how she would have to remember him in their brief few months of competition and shagging then so be it, she could live with that.

Just as she was beginning to force herself to do some actual sewing, a black and white blur went past the doorway of the living room. She stared after it. That had been Mr. Todd, unless a panda had been living in the household without her knowing.

She couldn't account for why he would be down from his barbershop so late- or at any time at all but she had her own foolish hopes that it might be for something dreadfully romantic or dramatic-

"Mrs. Lovett." Toby had appeared at the kitchen doorway. "Mr. Todd wants me to let him into the laundry."

- or maybe he was just doing his laundry...

"Oh..." She said, trying to disguise her disappointment. "Well, yes. Do it then."

"Are you sure?" Toby said suspiciously, not seeming to trust letting Mr. Todd onto such sacred ground.

"Yes, Toby, let him in." Mrs. Lovett said impatiently, rolling her eyes. "What's he going to do? Set it alight." She paused. "Well, actually... maybe you should just keep an eye on him... while he's in there..."

Toby nodded importantly and disappeared, leaving Mrs. Lovett to wonder at Mr. Todd doing his own laundry for once. It was nice... different... unusual... to have him actually do something for himself. She could get used to it, if he kept it up. Which she suspected he wouldn't, after he got bored of playing housekeeper.

She looked back down at her sewing and forced herself to return to it, using all her willpower to take up her threaded needle and pick up the first shirt to be tended to. She could already feel the frustration building up inside of her and she hadn't even put the needle through the material yet. Stupid sewing... so... bloody... irritating.... She stabbed the needle through the material and ripped it through irritably. The thread was at least three shades too dark for the material of the shirt and the stitching was clumsy and untidy but in the great scheme of things-

"Pink."

Mrs. Lovett jumped. She had been so wrapped up in her hatred of sewing that she hadn't noticed Mr. Todd had appeared in the doorway. She looked up at him and snorted. He glowered at her and plucked at his shirt. The whole shirt, which he had evidently had the ingenious idea of attempting to wash with the pink flowers and hearts still attached had been dyed a very pretty shade of rose.

"Stop sniggering!" He snapped at her, as she battled with a grin.

"Sorry..." She choked. "I'm not... I'm just..." She forced a straight face. "I wish you'd waited, love."

"How was I supposed to know the stupid things would dye all my shirts _pink_!" He spat furiously.

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "If you'd come to me first, I would have told you."

"It's your fault in the first place!" Todd burst out. "They're your stupid hearts!"

Mrs. Lovett didn't reply. She glanced back down at her sewing pile. "Well... are they _all _pink..." Her lips twitched slightly. "Are _all _your shirts..." She choked slightly. "... pink..."

"No... three or four aren't..." He replied sullenly.

She paused for a moment and then sighed. "Bring them here... I'll unpick them for you..."

Todd stood glowering at her for a few moments and then left, taking the ruined shirts with him. He went upstairs and found the four shirts which weren't bright pink and headed back downstairs, he was halfway down the stairs when he was abruptly struck by an idea and stopped for a moment, savouring it. After a few moments he continued downstairs and stood at the living room doorway, watching Mrs. Lovett struggle away for a minute or so before he spoke:

"Show me how to do it."

She looked up slowly from where she sat and studied his face for a moment before she replied at length: "... What...?"

"Show me... how to... sew..." He repeated stonily.

She frowned slightly at him and gave a half shrug. "O...k..."

--

"_OW._ Watch where you're poking that thing." Todd snapped at Mrs. Lovett while she demonstrated (badly) how to thread a needle.

"Oh, stop being such a big baby." She scoffed. "It's a pin for goodness sake."

"That thread doesn't even look white." He chided, glaring at it.

"It's white." Mrs. Lovett replied flatly.

"It's cream." He grumbled.

"It's white." Mrs. Lovett snapped. "It's my thread and I say it's white. Now shut up and put it through the shirt..."

Mr. Todd sent her a sour look but obeyed, threading it with remarkable ease through the ruined shirt.

"Good." Mrs. Lovett said, with some surprise at his skill. "That's good. Now just bring it out- _OUCH_. _Not in my hand._"

"See, it hurts, doesn't it."

"Shut it."

"God." Mr. Todd said, frowning at his handiwork. "This thread is practically _orange_, don't you have anything whiter?"

"Don't you ever shut up..." Mrs. Lovett muttered.

"'_Shut up'_ isn't in my dictionary." He replied to annoy her.

"Maybe you should get a new dictionary then."

"It's a figure of speech-

"I _know_ it's a bloody figure of speech..."

"Geez. No need to get so angry, Mrs. Lovett. You really should keep that nasty temper of yours in check..."

"Oh, shut up."

"You shut up..."

"Look. Just concentrate on what you're doing..."

"I _am_... God, you're so bossy..."

"I heard that..."

"Fascist..."

"Child..."

Things were back to normal. Or as normal as they got in the Lovett/Todd household... which really, in truth, is not all that normal whatsoever...

_The End_

**A/N: Well. There you go ;) Now you've read it, review ittttttttttttttttttttttttttttt XD Pwease... ;P**


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